


Sea and Flames

by MinutiaeMeraki



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Suggestive Themes, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-06-10 17:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinutiaeMeraki/pseuds/MinutiaeMeraki
Summary: James Madison is a well known criminal. He is a theif, a murderer. His life was never the easiest, and his past was something that haunted him. Still, most criminals are known for being just what they are, a crack in the perfect glass sculpture called the universe. This is exactly what James see's himself as; a mistake. What happens when a certain man, Thomas Jefferson, walks into his cruel life?"It was like a nightmare that never ended. Here he was once more, his hands ascended above him by tight rusted chains and shackles that were again leaving the dark purple marks of bruises and the crimson color of blood as the shards of rust clattered against the already wounded skin. For the twentieth time he felt the harsh leathery strands rake down his back with a loud noise as it broke through the air, a hoarse scream emitting from his chapped and dried lips. He had been screaming so long, far to long, that his voice had given out and shattered. It had broke just like so many times before. Sweat covered his body, accompanied by layers of dried blood, different marks and shapes of scars littering his frame."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post my fanfiction from wattpad on here as well. Please enjoy! Do be warned I have slow updates.

           It was like a nightmare that never ended. Here he was once more, his hands ascended above him by tight rusted chains and shackles that were again leaving the dark purple marks of bruises and the crimson color of blood as the shards of rust clattered against the already wounded skin. For the tenth time he felt the harsh leathery strands rake down his back with a loud noise as it broke through the air, a hoarse scream emitting from his chapped and dried lips. He had been screaming so long, far to long, that his voice had given out and shattered. It had broke just like so many times before. Sweat covered his body, accompanied by layers of dried blood, different marks and shapes of scars littering his frame.

          The warm, yet cool feeling of blood ran down his back profusely from already infected wounds. Another harsh lash to his back was made, his screaming now turning into pitiful sounds as he sobbed out, the hot tears cascading down his face like a gentler version of a waterfall. The torturer seemed to only be driven further, encouraged by the mans pain. A crooked smile was plastered on the mans metal covered face, a insane and monstrous look in his eyes as he continued to whip the back of the unlucky soul in front of him. His sobs never stopped him. Nothing did. They were merciless, every single one of them.

         "Are you going to speak truthful words now?" The lash wielding man had said, walking around to face the man held up only by chains from the stone ceiling. Not only did he ask a question, but he faced him to admire the pure agony in his victims eyes; in this criminals eyes. There were forty lashings in total today, twenty on his back and twenty on his torso. How he managed to live through this day after day was a miracle. It was odd, they actually tried to keep him alive longer than the rest. He opened his eyes to meet the gaze of his torturer, a noise much like a choked wheeze being all he could make. "You still don't speak?" He inquired in a perplexed tone, his malicious grin widening. Still he didn't answer. He never did.

         Harshly grabbing his aching jaw the man laid the leather whip down on a nearby table, a growl in his voice. "The more you don't say, the worse I will make this for you until you get your miserable life taken from you." The threat meant nothing to him now, it had already been used countless times before. So he remained silent still, barely being able to keep himself in consciousness. The torturer, a man taller than him even with the chains holding him up, growled lowly once more, taking his hand back from the practically limp mans jaw. In no words he roughly and quickly unshackled his hands from the chains, letting him fall to the floor helplessly with a thud. 

          He could barely lift himself off of the ground anymore, one of his shoulder's being out of place, that same arm being broken, and his right ankle being fractured and broken, also out of place. The torturer grabbed him by his arm, yanking him up off of the ground with brute strength, one hand finding it's way around his throat, though the awful tormentor didn't try to block his airway. He didn't struggle, most of the time he didn't, as he had learned not to try anything, it was useless. 

         "What should I do with you now, murderer?" The metal clad face twisted in disgust as he spat the word, making the weak man flinch as some of the saliva landed on his face. What had they not done to him? Well, plenty, but he'd seen it all. Even with his small stature, he had lasted the longest out of everyone here, though new prisoners came in weekly. Now the man had started to press great amounts of pressure on his throat, causing him to gasp painfully and writhe beneath him pitifully, instinctively trying to claw the man's hand away; A horrible idea.

        This seemed to spark an idea in his tormentor, you could see it in his eyes. He released his throat, allowing him once more to fall to the floor, taking painful deep breaths. The deeper the breath the more in seemed to stab at his lungs, causing him to gasp softly. There were faint marks on the torturers wrist where his untrimmed nails had dug into the skin, an evil smirk playing across his expression. Never did he even get a chance to catch his breath before he was violently yanked up again. "I know exactly what to do with you," He stated with a cold and bitter chuckle, dragging him off somewhere in that same huge stone-walled room.

        The short man found himself now seated in a chair, his arms, legs, and throat attached to it securely with metal and leather strap like features. It wasn't the chair per-say that was what would inflict pain to him, rather now the thin, clamp-like tool in the torturers hand. Of course he was confused, fearful, as he always was. What were they going to do to him today? What was that thing they were just holding? Is that even possible to live through? All usual questions to himself.

       "We'll make sure you can't use those nails anymore," The tall man said dryly, his mocking smirk never faltering for a second unless it was replaced by anger. He had no idea what he was talking about, but realization hit him as soon as the torturer leaned down, reaching towards his fingers with the tweezer like device. Once the man began with his new-found task of pain, he couldn't help the screams of pure agony.

        He found that having your nails plucked from each hand and each foot was more painful than he would have imagined, yet still was not the worst he had gone through.


	2. Chapter 2

        Thomas Jefferson sprinted along the dark, stone built ground of the alleyway. It was lit only by the moonlight; just enough to see where he was going. His pursuers ran close behind him, quickly trying to catch up with the man, to imprison the criminal. The men chasing him in the dark were none other than a band of guards that had caught him stealing goods from a market. A thief is what he was, and he really did not savvy losing his hand for his crime. Though he was much more than a simple thief, but they did not know that, for they hadn't caught a glimpse of his stubble decorated features.

        Glancing over his shoulder as he heard one of the guards strong shouts, "Which way?" He instantly realized that they were losing him. Just run a little faster. A little longer. Jefferson roughly grabbed the corner of a wood and stone house, throwing himself around the corner quickly.

        The soft pitter-patter of his swift foot-steps, and the heavy clink of armor behind him were the only noises. No lights were on in the village at this hour of the night. Each and every individual was told by the law when they could and couldn't be outside. 4a.m.-11p.m. Midnight was quickly approaching the cloudless night, as most families were now asleep. 

        Thomas vaulted himself over a hay wagon in the middle of one of the alleyways where shops were open in the daytime to sell goods of all kinds. A kingdom like this was like heaven to a thief; a very deadly heaven. Suddenly, the tall criminal found himself followed by only silence. The clinking of metal-on-metal had died down, the guards already giving up on a pointless chase.

         Slowing his steps, he turned, faced with nothing but an empty alleyway, the only thing there resembling people were the shadows darker than pitch. A smirk played across his facial expression, though it was well hidden by a cloth mask. Only his oak brown eyes were visable, a cloak covering his head and shoulders.

         Skeptically looking around now to make sure no one was around, he continued his was down the alley way. Never once had he been to this part of the kingdom, and if he wasn't so prideful, he would admit that he was quite lost. Slower than he had been going, he made his way into more of the darkness, his boots tapping on the cobblestone ground, his eyes focused forward, but his senses at a sharp point in case he was spotted once again.

        The houses here were much nicer than some in the western kingdoms. Much neater in style and leaving room for people to get around. Though he presumed it was very much more crowded in the day, when the entire of the kingdom was mostly outside. People around these parts soaked up daylight hours like noonwraiths.

         Red shingles addressed the tops of these houses, strong pine and oak wood being the buildings entire structure, built into or against stone walls. Red, brown, white, and tan paint decorated the outside frames, and if he had the time he would have took a moment to see what the inside of one of these looked like.

         Where he lived was simple: In the 'ghost town' part of the stone-wall surrounded kingdom. Most came to call it 'The poor peoples kingdom'. The poorest citizens lived ration to ration as the king robbed them blind in search of taxes to cash in. Though there were many holes in the wall, some were afraid to leave. 

         Thomas, however, went as he pleased, where he pleased. He'd seen the public displays of tormented criminals, but sadly he found that they could have had worse. He felt sympathy for the poor souls that went through that, but couldn't help the thought that always came to his mind. If they were so desperate, they would have not been caught in the first place. Sure homeless individuals were punished, as it was a crime to live with no home. No home meant no taxes paid to the king. No money for the king meant a lot of death. 

        He was selfish really, seeing as he was one of the most wanted thieves there was. There were quite a lot of criminals that had a higher price on their heads than he. But here's the thing, he didn't get caught. Perhaps he was just the best? There were always so many signs around the kingdoms of all lands, the lush forests, everywhere.

Wanted.  
Thomas Jefferson.  
Wanted for murder of many and thievery.  
Dead 5,000€ Alive 10,000€

         You see, 10,000 shillings was a lot. Most lucky individuals could get 100 shillings a year. Of course he was always in danger. Other thieves had even tried to turn him in. Assassins, mercenaries, hell, even some of the elven kind had tried. Elves were a rare sight to see, he almost felt honored they tried to kill him. Almost.

         Now there is something he feared. There were many things actually, but he tried to keep his rough exterior. A major fear? Well, let's just say you don't want to see what they do to homosexuals. Why was he afraid of this? Surely someone like him would have women swooning over him. Well, that is if they didn't try to turn him in first. This was because he was someone who very much preferred males over females. He never knew why, but easily figured it out at an earlier age. Not knowing what it was, he told his parents. They looked disappointed; he could remember their exact expression. But he soon figured out they weren't exactly disappointed with him, but the fact that their son could be killed for this so called "discrimination to god." They accepted him, but told him never to tell anyone. No one knows to this day. 

        Taking a right, Jefferson found his eyes met with light. Down the alley another twenty or so feet, was a guard. A single guard stood there, and beside him, an open doorway, lit by torches inside. He thought it was the kingsmen raiding yet another home, but when he stalked closer, he realized this was not the case. It wasn't a house at all, but led underground.

        He took a hiding place behind a wagon of barrels, peering over the side. His mind raced with questions; What would a single guard be doing outside that place? What even is that place? Riches are stored in underground safe-havens underground the kingdom aren't they? 

        He found himself being drawn nearer and nearer to the light, well hidden by wagons and crates. Now he was only five feet away from the oblivious guard, a shiny metal dagger in hand. Curiosity was overriding his senses of rationality, such as the thought that his conscience had skipped over: What if there are more guards inside?

        With stealth and silence he pushed himself from the wooden crates he was hidden behind, acting fast in grabbing the guard and piercing a dagger into his throat. He didn't die instantly, and Thomas was left with the sight of a man choking on his own blood, watching as the crimson liquid oozed out of his wound and bubbled from his gaping mouth. A death well deserved for a treacherous being.

        Taking his bloodied dagger out of the mans flesh, he wiped it on his cloak. Standing from the ground where he knelt, an idea struck him. It wouldn't hurt to be careful would it?

        Soon enough the dead man was stripped of all of his armor, only left in the chainmail under armor and the thin layer of clothes he wore underneath. The dark colored armor now saw it's way fitted to the thief, the thick metal sword in it's leather sheath. He adjusted the helmet using a puddle of water nearby, admiring his metal clad figure with a grin. He'd only seen a few of the kingsmen with this specific armor, as they were more important he had figured out. Tsk. More important my ass. He didn't even see me coming. Thomas thought to himself. The sword he now called his own, was magnificent, a small ruby fixated in the middle of the handle.

        They'd never expect a thing. Jefferson picked up the body, making sure to get no more blood on the almost perfect armor. He tossed the corpse into one of the hay wagons, for it to be someone else's problem in the early hours of day. Now, onto other matters.

        The guard disguised thief began to make his way down into the building, torches lighting his way down stairs, until he was met with a hallway. No other guards were in sight. Perhaps they didn't need many? 

        There were quite a number of corridors he passed by, but most were visibly met with dead ends and empty rooms. Then it started to get to where rooms had weapons in them, a few sleeping guards. Once or twice a person actually passed by, though they never paid him any mind, he tensed everytime. 

         And then he made a turn, a turn he would have rather not made. There in front of him now was a corridor that had cells built along the wall. The first cage he looked into made him want to vomit. There was a corpse inside, maggots eating away at the carcus. The skin of what he guessed used to be a healthy man was now hugging the skeletal frame. Long threads of black and grey hair were still in the scalp of the dead man, blood matted over the entire body.

         He didn't know what it was, but he began walking down the corridor, looking into each and every cage. Every cell seemed to hold something worse and worse. Corpses of women and their ribs ripped apart. The bodies of people whom had mangled and splintered apart arms and legs. His head was spinning and he was just about to turn and leave when he heard the ragged wheeze of breath that came from one of the last cells. His eyes widened a bit in shock and he instantly found himself in front of the cage. 

        Laying there in the corner and shadows of the stone cell was a man, curled up, looking like he'd been through hell. His eyes were closed, but Thomas sense he wasn't asleep; Completely that is. The man was wearing what used to be pants but were now tattered and ripped to the knee. His shirt wasn't any better; holes and rips all over the fabric. But that wasn't the bad part. Blood seeped through the fabric of his shirt, covering it's once tan color almost completely red. Other wounds all over were bleeding and clearly not in the best condition. His ankle was twisted in a disgusting way, obviously broken.

        Sure many people had gone through this he guessed, but he was alive, still in pain. He didn't know how long he'd been here, but considering everyone else was dead, he guessed awhile. A voice in his head told him to help the man, but another told him to leave him, for it was no good, he was practically already dead.

          It was what he'd done his entire life. Either helped or left souls much like this to die. Most of the time they died before he could help, but something was drawing him to this one. And he didn't know what. Maybe that he looked a little familiar? Or deep down, Thomas knew that he would want someone to help him if he were like this? Maybe it was more.

         "Sir?" His voice rang to his own ears and he watched at the eyes of the stranger weakly opened, fear glazing them over like fog on mountains. There was no attempt to move, no attempt to speak, just the look of unadulterated fear, and something else. Something was in his eyes that he couldn't quite place.

         Then it hit him; this man didn't look like he'd gone through hell, because he had gone through hell.


	3. Chapter 3

James could barely remember what happened after the shackles and chains holding him up were removed. He remembers falling to the ground, just like every other time. It was getting harder and harder to lift himself up off of the ground with every passing day. The memory of his tormentor, his hand grasped around his throat, came to mind. He had tried out of instinct to claw away the mans rough hands, but soon realized that to be yet another one of his horrible mistakes in life.

He was unconscious now, having passed out sometime when his nails were being brutally ripped from his fingers. James had a pretty high tolerance for pain, but nothing compared to what they did to him; to everyone here. Everyone was already dead except him. Fresher criminals would be brought in sometime this week. Was it this week? He couldn't tell anymore. Many of the unlucky souls that came here were simply impoverished markets-men or famished teenagers whom wound up having to steal food just to survive for another day.

His mind now wasn't set on that however, it was set on the past, how it always seemed to be. Many regrets filled his memories, followed by guilt and fear. He didn't want this life, but he didn't have a choice. They always say you have a choice, that you can set your life exactly how you want it. They're wrong.

James was the child of a family beyond unwealthy. His parents could barely keep food on the table for him and his siblings; siblings now dead. He was a thief to put it simply, a very well known one at that, and one of the most wanted. What was it 20,000€ if someone turned him in? Dead. Well, I guess no one is getting that reward now, considering he got himself into the predicament. He remembers the day he'd been caught, the pain of an arrow shooting through his leg when he tried to run. What was it he told them? "I guess you must be disappointed. You can't turn me in for the prize all these people are so fond of getting. Must be a shame, thinking of all the money that could be yours, but of course you can't take the reward. You're men of the king. Pets."

He knew it was an awful idea to say that to guards, but he couldn't help it. Of course they knew he was, and that only made the torture worse in the long run. James was usually a quiet man, cold, hostile. The words just slipped.

He learned quite a few things while he was trapped here to die: Don't talk, even if it makes it worse for you, and don't try escaping. Yes, he tried to escape once. How do you think his ankle got twisted in such a way. The words they said still ring in his head, "If you try again, it's your other ankle. If you try again after that, it's your knees." He didn't know about anyone else, but he would like to be able to still have the chance to stand. Frankly you can't do that when both of your ankles and knees are broken. So he never tried it again.

Consciousness was soon flooding his mind, a groan escaping his cracked lips as the reality of pain course through his entire body. He couldn't tell what hurt the most anymore really. The deep gashes littering his torso and back, or maybe even the ribs that he knew were broken? Or maybe just his mind. That's always what got the best of him anyways. The harsh truth that he was going to be here until they finally decided to execute him, or until his body finally gave out and he died in this cell?

He kept his eyes closed, always dreading opening them. Everytime, he was met with the sight of a rotting corpse in a nearby cell, never taken away by the guards or torturers. Disgusting really. But what could you expect from them?

He didn't want to move or do anything really, wishing that one day they would give him sympathy, ending his life. They did bring him food, and for a long time he wouldn't eat. Yet again, they wanted him alive so they eventually forced him to. Not a pretty thing. 

Marks scattered his arms where he had scratched away at the layers of skin, leaving bleeding marks that were now well beyond infected. It was a habit of his even before he was here. Panic and fear would take over and he would begin to claw at the flesh absentmindly. It was never on purpose, and even when he dreamed it would happen. His mind was plagued by nightmares, both from the past and reality. James has had them ever since he was a kid, ever since-

The clacking of boots on stone was beginning to sound once more. Though this time it wasn't a harsh sound, it was softer, like someone was trying to sneak and be casual at the same time. He would know well, being a thief. Fear still filled his very being, but he remained how he was, laying on the floor, slightly curled up in a mess of agony. Why were they coming to get him again? Had he not suffered enough today?

The sound was closer now, a few moments of hesitation between some steps, like the person was pausing. James didn't bother moving at all, or opening his eyes. He didn't care anymore, not as much as he should. Though he could tell by the sound that the person was now in front of his cell. Why weren't they opening it? 

Then the most miraculous thing happened. In a soft tone, almost a whisped, the person in front of his cell spoke. "Sir?" He questioned, almost sounding..concerned. James slowly opened his eyes, keeping them barely open. His sight was met with one of the guards standing there, blood stained on the armor. Fear shone heavy in his eyes, though again he made no attempt to move. Usually he would try to resist the guards that came to take him out of the cage, however, he was so weak right now and the guard seemed to not even move from where he stood.

"How long have you been here?" The man questioned, reaching a hand out and placing it on one of the iron bars. James did not answer, he never did. Instead he pitifully moved himself back a bit, painfully sitting up and pressing his back to the furthest wall until he couldn't move further. The was a moment more of silence, a pause much like when someone is thinking. And then words came out of his mouth again, "I can get you out of here. Let me just-" He turned to see if anyone was there, and them scanned the walls for a moment until his eyes landed on what he needed. The keys. 

James was highly confused, still very much afraid. What did this guard think he was doing? Taking the keys, the man looked at them, realizing that there were only three of them on the metal loop. Most of the cells had the same lock. It made it easier for the guards and tormentors to get the prisoners out quicker. James had been here long enough, he would know. 

The first key didn't work and the stranger let out a frustrated sigh, trying the next key. A click was heard, and the iron cell door was pushed open. As the man in armor approached James, he couldn't help but whimper in his own frustration as he pressed his back against the wall more, having no where else to go. The guard seemed to notice this and paused, looking down at himself.

There were no more words for a moment, and the guard took off the metal helmet, slowly sitting it aside on the ground. His hair was a fluffed up mess, going everywhere practically, a little bit of stubble on his face, a smile plastered on his face as well. Though it was a malicious smirk, and his eyes weren't filled with cruelty.

James' chest rose slowly, hesitance mixing in with every other emotion. He felt that if he would relax then he would have judged wrong about this person, but at the same time he didn't seem like a threat.

"I'm not a guard. M'not even workin' for the king. Ya've got nothing to worry about. I want to help," He said, taking a small step forwards. Any other time, he may notice how nice the persons voice sounded; a smooth, nice voice. James looked up at the man tiredly, skeptically looking him up and down. Then why do you have the armor? He could have stole it you skank. What if he's lying? Still with these questions, he took the liberty to try standing, of course it was a bad idea. He almost fell instantly, but was quickly caught. If he's giving me a chance out of here, I'm taking it. James said nothing still as the stranger tried to wrap an arm around his waist for support. A hiss of pain escaped James lips at that, alerting the person, who loosened his arm around him, mumbling a hushed apology. 

There was more hesitance, and James knew what he was thinking, How are we going to get out of here without getting caught? Nonetheless, he carefully walked forwards with him, and once they got out of the cell and to the end of the corridor, the stranger looked around each corner. James barely did, then again he could barely keep himself conscious anymore. 

Apparently there was someone there because he felt him tense, his arm tightening around him once more, getting another wince. "Exactly what are you doing with him?" He heard asked, a snarl in the real guards voice. "Im.." You better think of something or else we're both dead. It's not like James had much to live for anyways. "Well?" There was annoyance in the guards voice. His patience was running low. 

Before James really had time to register, there was a knife through the guards throat, causing him to crumple to the ground. If it were any other circumstances, he would have smiled, glad he got what he deserved. "Sorry. Didn't really have an excuse," The man helping him muttered, more so to the dead guard, and a little to him. At least that's what he thought. He couldn't expect an answer from James could he? Well, If he did, James couldn't blame him.

Quite quickly they were back out on the streets, no other guards having seen them. Was the exit really that close? No, he was just beginning to blank out at certain times, making it seem like it took less time than it had. You see James assumed that the person helping him was just going to get him out of there and that was it, but no that wasn't the case. He was helping James along, sticking to the darkest parts of the alleyway. Somehow James remembers every corner, every step of the way.

Confusion clouded his brain once more once they reach the door of a house after some time, maybe twenty or thirty minutes. A house? Was he taking him here for help, to leave him here and get on with his life? Seemed likely. Instead of knocking, the armor clad man just pushed the door. Just, what..?

The house had two rooms room, like many had, and was accessorized by three one-person beds, a small table, and three chairs, along with a dutch oven. That was all that was here, no other person, no other items. The second room was just an empty place, usually for storage. It was only big enough for maybe two people to stand in.

James found himself being laid down on one of the three small mattresses, an awkward smile playing across the strangers face. He didn't know what to do, the wounded convict knew that much. "Is it okay if I look at your wounds? The ones I can see are pretty bad," said the armored stranger as he rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. James shook his head simply, no words, nothing. 

He didn't exactly find the thought of help very appealing. Yes he most likely needed the help, but still, James was never a fond person of other peoples help. He was already weak, vulnerable, helpless. But why make himself feel even more so? The clothes he had on were torn and tattered, newer blood still dampening the once tan shirt now stained various hues of red.

"You need the help. You don't have to trust me, but let me help you," He replied and once more James shook his head only. "You're going to die."

James pondered that sentence in his head. Often he would tell himself that. You're going to die. It was always just around the corner, death was. He didn't understand why he lived through this all. How did he? No one knew he was missing, nor cared about his existence. People just cared about the reward they would get for turning him in. What a life to live.

"If you care so much about my life, then so be it." James was surprised by the raspiness of his voice, then again it was broken from screaming; from all the pain. Still it was soft, mellow in tone. And by the look on the strangers face, he could tell that he was surprised as well.  
"You-" The man began, only to be cut off by James.  
"Spoke. And I'd rather not anymore," He replied, coldness in his voice. 

The man seemed a little confused by his coldness and hostility. After all he was helping him. Why should he be like this? Many reasons, but he'd rather keep that conversation a closed one. He only nodded in response, no words much like how James had been.

He walked away for a moment, and James set his gaze to the wooden ceiling, eyes scanning the small nooks and cracks in the old wood. His thoughts were well alive with questions, and he almost couldn't believe he was out of that place. They were surely going to find him. And what of this man who was helping him? The nameless stranger that seemed keen on helping unlike every other person. He would probably die too. That is if they found him while he was still in this house. 

Soon the man came back into the room, a leather bag in hand. "I may not have much, but I hope it will do." And with that, he knelt down next to James, for what would be moments of no talking.

Or so James thought. 

"You have a name?" He questioned. James let his eyes fall back on Thomas, a skeptical glint in them.  
"James," He answered simply, looking back up at the ceiling.  
"Well James, I'm Thomas. Do you have a last name?"  
I could ask you the same thing, James thought to himself sarcasm dripping in his conscience. "Not one that you need to know." This was true. James was a common name. James Madison however was a well known criminal. What would Thomas do if he found that out? He seemed like a thief himself. James only knew of two or three well known criminals named Thomas. Which could this be? Paine, or Jefferson perhaps? Thomas Paine, and Thomas Jefferson, those were the most well known. James still remembers things, no matter the length of time he spent in there. Insanity didn't claim him. Completely at least.

The man, Thomas, didn't reply to his comment, though he did say something else. "I'm going to need you to lean up a bit. It's not a suggestion." James swore he heard a threatening lace in his tone. What was he suppose to be doing? Intimidating him? Sure James was short and didn't seem all that strong, but even like this that whole threatening thing wasn't working, especially when it seemed like a very bipolar thing in the moment.

Still, he complied, leaning up with a wince. He tensed when he felt a hand in his back; Thomas'. "Take your shirt off." James could tell he was trying not to touch him all that much, but he couldn't help but chuckle at the demanding tone.  
"At least buy me dinner first," He said, looking at Thomas once more. Was that red on his cheeks?  
"Funny, but I mean it."

"So do I," He responded sarcastically, though his voice was dry and crackly, carefully using his good arm to take the bloody piece of cloth off. Once it was off, Thomas took it from his hand, dropping it somewhere on the floor. James was a pretty insecure person, so naturally without thought, he shrank in on himself a little.  
"They really did a number on you didn't they?" He heard Thomas mumbled to himself. It was a comment to which he didn't feel inclined to reply to. 

After that, it followed only in silence. Of course while Thomas was cleaning up the wounds, James would wince or hiss in pain every now and them, but that was about it. This whole thing took about twenty minutes, considering there were so many cuts and gashes, each infected badly. His torso and abdomen was practically covered in bandages, along with his back, parts of his arm, including both of his wrists, and parts of his legs. They managed to get his ankle and shoulder back into place, which pretty much caused James to scream again. In good news, his arm wasn't broken, though the bone was bruised badly. Thomas had apologized for the pain he caused, but James didn't reply. He didn't even really cause anything, he was fixing what happened.

"All done. Now, let's see if I have any extra clothes..," Thomas murmured, standing up from the spot he knelt, shoving the rest of the used items back into the brown leathered bag. Just like that he walked away again, only to come back a minute or two later, grey pants and a dark green shirt in hand. "It's all I have," He said, holding them out to James. 

Taking them, James moved his legs to where his feet were touching the ground. "Thank you, Thomas," He said, giving a weak smile, though it could barely be considered one. After all he should at least thank the man who was so kindly helping him. The person who helped him get out of that hellhole. But..why did he help him? 

"It's not a problem," He said back, crossing his arms. James looked at him, an expectant look in his face. "Oh! Right, I'll, um, go out of the room for now." 

After Thomas left the room, James sighed, though it was so soft it could barely be considered one. He stood up on his weakened legs, not surprised that he could stand a little better now that his ankle wasn't out of place. After all the pain was still there, yes, but that didn't mean it was harder to stand. He was used to pain.

It was still difficult to use his arm, but he managed to get the shirt over himself, along with putting the new pair of pants on. Good as new. Ha. As if. "You don't have to stay in that room," James said, lying back down on the bed, wincing at some of the movement.  
A few seconds later, Thomas emerged from the room, a sigh passing his lips. "Since you don't seem like the talkative type, you should get some rest."

"Yeah..Thanks again for your help. I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow," James replied, closing his eyes. He didn't necessarily want to sleep, usually he never did. Really, he didn't want to be a burden, so he wanted to leave as soon as possible. Whatever his condition was, it didn't matter. 

"You can, uh, stay longer than that..," Thomas said, sitting himself down on one of the other beds.  
"I'd rather not," James said, and that was that. Neither of them said anything after that, and James assumed it was because Thomas didn't want to argue with some stranger. 

Some time passed, with James just thinking to himself, something he did to frequently, and he finally found himself drifting to sleep. Before unconsciousness fully consumed him, he swore he heard from where Thomas was laying, "Night, stranger."


	4. Chapter 4

"Night, stranger," Thomas commented softly, not expecting the person, James, to hear him. He had no clue if he was asleep or not, but even if he was, he probably wouldn't have replied. There was something about this James man, it was odd. He was injured badly, yet he still carried a type of intimidation around with him. Like if you said to much you may get stabbed, or if you asked to many questions your throat would get slit . Thomas was trying very hard to be nice, yet he found himself struggling not to make an sarcastic comments or rude remarks. It was part of his practically flaming personality.

Thirty minutes after those two words came from his mouth, he looked over at James. His chest lightly rose and fell, his lips parted slightly. If Thomas wouldn't have known any better he would say it was pretty endearing. Even with bruises and smaller cuts scattered on James' face, he was still attractive. Don't think that way, he scolded himself mentally. 

James mentioned something before falling asleep. Something to due with leaving tomorrow. How he said it, to Thomas it sounded like he was going to try leaving as soon as he woke up. Thomas found himself feeling worried. Why? It was just some stranger he found helpless in a cell, probably about to die, and then decided to help. What happened to him after this meant nothing. Did it?

Why did he even offer his help? Clearly James didn't accept the help very well, and it was highly uncommon for Thomas to even be so kind. He was compassionate to an extent. Usually it didn't go so far as to risking his life for a stranger. Yet there, and here, he was. The guards would definitely be looking for their lost prisoner. He knew that if they caught James again, he would be dead, along with himself for housing a refugee and just being himself in general; a criminal. 

What had he done to get himself in there? Thomas wondered to himself. Stealing? That was common, but most weren't skilled thieves and wound up getting caught and killed. Perhaps he just mouthed off to one of the guards? No..He wouldn't have looked like that when Thomas found him. They really did do a lot to him, and he was surprised how James was acting. He went from scared and unsure, to a mix of that, and cold, bitterness. How?

He hadn't realized he was staring at the sleeping James, until he saw him shift and was brought out of his thoughts. Discomfort flashed across the small mans face, sweat clearly forming on his forehead. The unsettled look on his face soon faded, and he stilled, untensing. 

Thomas sighed to himself, shifting his body to face away from James and towards the wall the bed was against. As he moved, the bed did too, groaning underneath his weight, screeching as the wooden frame dragged across the floor for a split second. He froze for a moment, moving slower and more carefully, trying not to make so much noise as he tried to get comfortable.

He tried to sleep, but his mind kept wondering to James. He didn't know anything about him, and the man barely talked. Albeit he could understand why. Being in there must have done just as much mental damage as physical damage. Or maybe he was always like that? Thomas honestly wished the man would stay longer, maybe enough time for himself to ask some questions. James didn't seem like the person that would be enthused to answer.

Time and time passed, and Thomas found it harder and harder to a fall asleep. A few hours had went by, and how it was most likely around two or three in the morning. There was the sound of James shifting, uncomfortably mind you, in the background every now and then. Thomas was usually able to keep his thoughts on a clear path where he wanted them, but sometimes they would wander. Tonight it went from the stranger, James, to his old life; his parents. 

How he really did miss them. What happened to them was a tradegy, and he still couldn't explain it. No one could. They were good people, a little poor, but for village folk, wealthy. He remembers the look of shock on their paled faces, the blood covering their bodies, fear glazing over their lightless eyes. Ten years old he was when he found them dead in the forest. Ten years old when he had to live on his own, fend for himself. It was at that age he realized how harsh life could really be.

A groan of pain broke him from his thoughts this time. He rolled over to look at James, who was now curled up on himself, his face not visable. Thomas kept his eyes on him for a moment longer, shifting to turn over yet again, until he heard a meek whimper. James shifted once more, painfully curling in on himself as much as he possibly could right now. Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of what to do. He didn't know how to help, and was very aware that the help he may offer would be met with unappreciative comments. So he remained where he was, moving so that his back faced the other man once more.

He fell asleep some time after that, though it was difficult with the audible noises of pain coming from the other. Thomas felt bad for him, something he didn't feel a lot. His conscience told him that there was something different about James then other people. He knew nothing about him. Only his first name. He was being the king of hypocrites however, since he only told his first title as well. 

Unlike James' unlucky soul, Thomas slept without so much as a flicked of a dream, a blank mind, and nothing more.

Morning soon came, and Thomas found himself barely wanting to open his eyes. Many days he woke up earlier than what it was now, but of course that didn't mean he wanted to. He rolled over with a groan of disappointment, a little surprised when he saw that another person was there in one of the other beds, curled up and facing away from him. He had almost forgotten that James was here. Last night wasn't memoriable. God this sounded more like a terrible one-night stand than forgetful helping.

Thomas sat up from the bed, letting his still boot-clad feet hit the floor. It was an often occurrence for him to not remember that most people usually took their shoes off before falling asleep. As he moved to stand up, he noticed that James had shifted as well, looking over at him with tired eyes, a deep pain buried in the dark, gold flecked iris'. Thomas almost forgot to speak, staring for a minute before saying with a groggy smile, "Goodmornin'." 

James didn't reply at first, his emotions seemingly oblivious or nonchalant that Thomas had even spoken at all. He was like that a lot, Thomas noticed. "Afternoon," He replied, his voice still scratchy and rough, though it was laced almost formally. 

Afternoon he said? Humph. So maybe he did sleep longer than usual. "Have you been awake for awhile?" Thomas quizzed, yawning after the sentence and pulling himself to his feet. If he was being honest, he was happy James was still here. Then again, he could have just woken up.  
"Since four hours ago," He replied, moving with a wince to sit up, each movement was with hesitance, as if he didn't know whether to move or not.  
"That's some time," Commented Thomas, with a soft chuckle.  
"I thought it was obvious," James began, sarcasm in his voice. "I actually meant six hours." By now the shorter male was sitting up awkwardly, visibly trying to sit the least painful way.

Wait. Did he turn what Thomas thought was a sarcastic comment-into some sort of a joke? You know, one of those not funny jokes that the person who says it knows it isn't funny but is said to make sure everyone else didn't take it to serious; it was one of those. 

Thomas gave another slight laugh, approaching the bed that his 'guest' was accompanying, without notice to the uncomfortable look in James' eyes as he did so.  
"You said you were leaving today, right? Don't," Thomas stated, crossing his arms and looking down to the other man whom was still sitting on the stiff mattress. Did he come off as sounding like a clingy stranger? Hopefully not. James gave a confused look to him, shifting his aching body once more.  
"I can do what a want." There was nothing but a statement that could be forged from that sentence. James seemed very fond of his own independence. Usually people lose all freedom or thoughts of such if they get out of a place like that.

"Look at you-" Thomas began only to be interrupted by James snapping back a sentence, "I'm sorry, I don't have a mirror." This earned a sigh from Thomas, an easy to see annoyance flaring in his eyes. "You don't need to even attempt to go anywhere on your own. What makes you think you can even survive out there without someone else?" Thomas stated, looking at the slight man sitting in front of him. James was short, but the fact he couldn't stand properly made it impossible to predict exactly how short. It was well below the average height for men that was for sure. Thomas was a portion above average height, being two inches and a half over six foot. James seemed to be likely a person with bark and no bite. 

James opened his mouth to reply, however it was Thomas' turn to speak over him. "You're weak and can barely walk. Just let me continue to help until you're at least healed enough to go out on your own. You need to eat something and rest, not just jump at your first chance to leave behind free help."

"I didn't ask for you to take me out of that cell, or to help me," responded James timidly. There was a look in his eyes. Thomas couldn't quite tell what it was. It was like a snake ready to bite after one wrong move is made. His voice was calm, James' was, yet his eyes held that cold glare like dry ice.  
"I sure as hell didn't see you declining either," said Thomas, his annoyance quickly growing like a wildfire. He was an easy man to annoy. If there wasn't some strange sympathy he had for this practical stranger, he might have already threatened his life. 

Sure, he actually realized he sounded a bit strange. Finding someone he never knew once in his life and helping them, then almost commanding them to stay. He needed a calmer approach, especially since he didn't know how far James' sanity was pushed in those times he was captured and tormented. 

James was clearly gritting his teeth together, albeit he finally replied with a low, "So be it.." Though his voice didn't sound as cold as before, it sounded more like a lost personality, a lost emotion; distant and unsure.  
"So you'll stay until you are better?" quizzed Thomas with his annoyance flickering eyes finally dying down into a more calm emotion. He only received a nod in response. 

Good. "I'll find you something to eat, and then you can rest," He stated so very simply, uncrossing his arms and walking over to that one extremely tiny room. It was like a storage room basically. Where he hid weapons and money, or stocked food for safe keeping. He was quick with finding food, not giving time for James to even rethink his decision on staying. Well, at least that's what he thought of course. Thomas has stashed a good amount of bread, potatoes and cooked beef in the small storage room, so he decided with snatching a piece of bread and meat from where he kept it.

He brought the little bit food he found back to his guest, holding it out to him. James' movements all showed hesitance and agonizing pain, yet you could tell he tried to mask it, to not seem so weak and in pain. Thomas can't remember the last time he's seem someone look so pained and fearful, all the while trying to cover it up. Slowly James reach a hand out, accepting the piece of bread and cooked meat., murmuring softly, "Thank you..."

"No problem, now eat up so you can rest," said Thomas, walking over to the bed that he accompanied last night and sitting down. James seemed to make no attempt to talk back yet again, his eyes cast downwards. As he sluggishly began to take small bites from the food, Thomas noted that almost every movement came with a silent wince. He noticed a lot very quickly really; the pain in each motion James made, the mysterious emotions hidden in his dark brown, almost black, eyes. There was a strange atmosphere with this wounded stranger, but he couldn't quite place it.

For now he stayed silent, not staring at James, as that was creepy, but glancing at him occasionally. The man ate slowly for someone practically starving, and he didn't know what to think of it. He didn't know what to think of James.


	5. Chapter 5

James was lying down on his aching back, the thin cot beneath him almost as comfortable as a stone floor. The food he had been eating was gone now, the plate he was given being taken away and put in a different location. Strangely tense quiet filled the room like rain filled up an empty lake; the difference was noticeable, but just by a whim.

His eyes were set up, gaze resting on the oddly misshapen wood ceiling. Rest was a feeble thing for the man, always being something closely related to his regular thoughts; his dreams and mind were complicated things. They were something he would rather not discuss. Of course he wanted to sleep, but he had gone days on end without sleep before. Being in that dungeon had taken a toll on his mental strength, as many things did. He always wanted to have rest, but was well aware with what came with such a luxury.

"You need to rest." Thomas' words cut through his thoughts like a boat through blood-thick water. James turned his head over to the side, annoyance flashing across his face as he did so.  
"You have no right to tell me what to do," James retorted, focusing back up on the ceiling, his expression one of uncomfort and dismay. The annoyance was quite obviously caused by the much taller male, his discomfort being from the excruciating pain that waved through his body like an endless body of boiling hot water.  
"I believe I do, stranger. You are in no health to be making decisions on your own. And I-" Thomas had began to respond hastily, his own annoyance levels rising tenfold. Although he was cut in by James.  
"Your beliefs are nothing but that; beliefs. It is merely a simple opinion. Do you so care to hear my own beliefs?" James queried, his queer, dark looking eyes moving without his head to set his visionary to Thomas once more, a daring poison sewed into his tongue. Thomas himself had opened his mouth to say something, but was struck without words as James continued his speech. "I believe that ones decision making is of course with the mind, not the body. Movement shows nothing but the action ones beliefs make, and health, oh health has nothing to do with those literary quarries. You use your mind and heart for decisions and my mind is telling me, of course, not to listen to you. That's my final decision." His voice was daring, sharp like a freshly made iron dagger, but smooth like creamy chocolate. If it wasn't for the circumstances Thomas may have even found the sound endearing, mysterious, and full of wonder. 

"You do realize who is the one wounded here, and who the one helping is, yes? Now, stranger I'm not very fond of this attitude of yours, but maybe you could treat me with a little respect. You have no idea who I am, much less what I am capable of doing. The least you could do is so some reasonable common sense. After all I could have left you there to rot like you were, or better yet killed you on spot. That would have ended your petty suffering wouldn't it have?" said Thomas his voice low and menacing like an angered wolf, though it seemed even more pitiful than a wounded pup, just something said out of spite. He was being rational however, James was not showing common curtesy or thankfulness. The wounded man had emitted a few solemn thanks here and there for the help he was receiving. For the most part however he stayed cold and undeserving, seemingly not wanting the help he was offered.

A look of surprise and hurt was etched onto the face of the shorter man, his vocal soul acting as if it was cut by shears, deemed useless and non-existing. It was a normal way for him to be talked to so lowly, and really he was not that surprised with the words that were said. He had his reasons however, just as most people did. Everything so suddenly looked so much more difficult, the air thin. "Of course..," The shorter male finally spoke, "Do you mistake me for that big of a fool? My name is not 'stranger' you know very well that it's James. I would treat you with respect, but you barely seem to have any yourself. I can see how hard you're trying to hide away your rude nature. Why you felt sympathy for someone like me, I have no clue. What you are capable of doing does not scare me, Thomas. Even like this. And you know what? I sense that you are afraid and confused-"  
"I-" Thomas had tried to intervene, but was stopped dead in his tracks at a hand being held up to quiet him. He huffed angrily in silence, but said nothing more. He would only be interrupted anyways.  
"You are afraid and confused, because you know that I am not intimidated by you. Why do you think this is? Do you really think I care whether or not you killed me or helped me. My life is suffering either way. What am I to you? What were you really looking for in there? I know it surely wasn't me. No. It was riches wasn't it? You want me dead so badly, then kill me," James hissed tensely back, anger flickering in his deep, brown eyes.

Thomas only stared at him in fuming silence, his mind playing catch up on every little word that was spoken. He didn't know how he was suppose to really tell his emotions to this practical stranger, to tell he really did care. Pride and fear got in the way of vulnerability, each for one assigned man.  
"Afraid and confused you say? You carry both of those with you heavily. Yes, I was looking for riches! Who wouldn't in a place like that all of the sudden just there?! You are nothing to me, just a useless human being like everybody else. At least now that's what I think. I helped you, because I felt bad for you. I don't think most people deserve that, but really you seem to miss being there so badly I should have just left you! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?! Accept help and advice like a normal person and maybe things would go a little smoother for the both of us!" The taller yelled furiously, clenching his fists tightly and forcing himself to keep his position where he sat on his own bed.

"The last time I took someones advice I ended up locked in a cell for three months..," James whispered dryly back, not noticing the tears that welled up in the corners of his eyes. None fell, but they blurred his vision, only then was he able to notice them, swiftly wiping them away before too much was able to be seen. He was always like this. Cold like ice, unfriendly and antisocial. He never accepted help very well, at all, and surely did not trust easily.

Thomas' eyes softened, a heavy, shaky sigh escaping past his chapped lips, anger dying down once he looked into James' eyes. Past the cold shimmer was an even brighter gleam, you just had to look hard enough. It was pain and mystery, entrancing yet hurtful; years of strangeness hidden out in the open. "I'm sorry okay? I don't understand why you won't accept my help, why you won't let me do anything more than I have? I tried so many times while you were eating to convince you to let me do more, but you denied it all. Why? Why will you not just let me help? I saved you from that cell, and you looked petrified. Why now are you so cold and hostile?"  
"You shouldn't apologize, I should. And I am sorry, very. It's... You wouldn't understand, and I can't put it into words. We should not be arguing over this, it's stupid! I've always been like this, you wouldn't know," responded James meekly, his voice still cold, but it was more strained, pain shining through more as if some wall had been broken all of the sudden; though it was more like gates opening out of nowhere.

"I may not be able to understand, but let me help, okay? I can do that. Just talk to me, and allow me to do what I got you out of there for." Thomas' tone was calm again, almost pleading, like he was trying so hard to climb a mountain nobody could climb. Yet if he knew James any longer after this, this wouldn't even be considered an obstical. 

The only response he received was a nod, both of understanding and agreement. James could never hold eye contact very long, Thomas had presumed, and was quite correct. His eyes now were to the ground, cast away from the handsome taller male. James didn't want to argue, but he didn't want to spill his life and thoughts to a random man that couldn't even call him by his name.

"So stranger-"  
"James."  
"So James," began Thomas with another heavy sigh, "Are you going to take my advice and rest?"  
"Do I have a choice anymore. It seems you've already been granted my defeat on that subject," James replied, eyes still downcast. His eyes showed defeat, though it wasn't really that. Thomas would describe it more as a mental exhaustion, almost like giving up on ones self. That was very quick to happen, but wasn't a good sign in anyone.  
"Sorry, hun. No choice at all. You need to rest as much as you can, so get to it," The tall, still half-armor clad man chimed with a grin.

"God help me and you if they ever find out..," James mumbled more to himself, before closing his eyes regretfully. Sleep never brought much good rest at all. He had no choice however, and the other man didn't need to know about his personal problems or life.


	6. Chapter 6

       It had been a few days in the household that Thomas and James were staying in, though it was really neither of theirs to own at all. James hadn't said much - not surprisingly - and though he tried to rest, it almost never came because of his awful luck. It never did, but Thomas didn't know that of course. He had no idea what went through the smaller males broken mind, what emotions really hibernated there. Thomas found no reason to know more about this man other than pure, adulterated curiosity.

       It was difficult for sure to get James to eat anything, and still, he did not cooperate well no matter how many pleas and tricks that the armored other had attempted to use. It was like trying to teach a fish how to fly. Thomas just didn't understand what was going on; he wouldn't talk, he wouldn't sleep or eat, and when he did sleep there was obviously something wrong. The taller male tried to pry at the subject, but it was dismissed. No conversations had been held in these days, almost a week now. All the while James was here there was barely any type of communication, and the talking they did do wasn't very pleasant. James was cold and hostile still, though it seemed to lessen day by day. Maybe if Thomas could get him to talk more it may ease him up a small portion?  
         
       Thomas tried not to press too hard on many subjects or questions after all James was already in physical pain, why bombard the poor man with inquiries? Albeit Thomas had so many questions, maybe too many, and he was growing impatient. However, he knew striking up a conversation with the wounded stranger was almost beyond impossible. The closest he had gotten to a long conversation was those few days ago when they were arguing, though it was cut short due to Thomas softening a little and James giving in to an argument he probably didn't actually want to be a part of. Then again, he was really the one who started to quarrel. It was childish to say, but sadly true.

          It was funny really: James had offered his cooperation once and only once. Why must he be so difficult? It was so simple to at least try eating a full meal. He was not in that much pain from moving, was he? Thomas was too afraid to ask him much; well not afraid, just hesitant. Usually, he would not be at all and would force on a conversation. Many times he had initially tried to do as such, but James seemed to see right past him, able to ignore the taller almost completely.

          As of now, the wounded vigilante was on the bed as usual, though he did sit up with his back against the roughness of the oak and pine wall. Neither of them would call it being lazy, not at all, just that it was factual that pain coursed through his body at every small movement. Thomas had to admit he was in horrible shape, and how he looked in slumber was downright miserable. There were a great amount of coin width cuts and scratches all over his body, along with numerous, large gashes and an uncountable amount of scars that littered his body. Most of the wounds were infected, and though they showed signs of healing, it was not getting much better. Thomas had to say he felt bad for him.

          "Will you at least try to have a conversation with me? You were a little bit nicer a few days ago, what happened to that?" inquired the much more lanky male with a bored, yet pleading, expression. He had not gone many places during the time following that he had taken James in to help him. He was always rather afraid to go outside because of the many guards around the large kingdom; A'vaarel. To add on to the matter he found himself annoyed yet still caring for James. There was really no reason to care except sympathy and pity, and it was very evident the shorter male did not take either of those things well. In all honesty, Thomas found that the other did not like any care for himself.  Perhaps he was used to the torturous life he had for assumably a long time before this.

         James did not let his gaze travel over to the other man in the room, rather he let them fall shut as an exhausted sigh fell past his lips. "Why are you so content with getting me to talk?" He questioned in return.

        "Well it's not exactly the most exciting thing to see you lie there miserably all day and not say a single word," Thomas explained, crossing his arms over his chest tightly, leaning against the wall he stood by. "You don't do anything at all. You haven't even attempted to do much really. The least you could do is hold a conversation. If not for my boredom of keeping you here, then do it for yourself. I can't imagine it is nice to just sit or lie there all day without a single word," added on the taller male. Thomas had changed out of the light armor some few days ago, quite obviously finding it very irritable to wear the metal accessories. Armor was not exactly an accessory or course; it was protection against a cruel word. Well, a cruel world could wait, because no matter how light the armor was it was extremely uncomfortable to wear.

          James was quiet for a small sliver of time, but soon he did utter something. "Well it's not exactly the most exciting thing to see you at all," He retorted, his expression staying empty as he flickered his eyes over to Thomas when he heard a sigh of defeat.

         Thomas allowed his arms to fall to his sides as he let out an annoyed sigh, tapping his foot down onto the floor as he gazed over at the other man. "How hard is it to just keep a conversation? You know I really can't trust you when I know nothing about you. I found you in a cell looking as if you were almost dead, and to tell the truth you really aren't looking much better. Obviously, you did something pretty bad to get in that situation in the first place. So if you aren't going to try to converse with the only reason you're alive right now then at least answer one of my questions. Answer seriously, because God knows my patience will run thin," The lanky male said, his voice showing faint signs of the irritability in him.

          "It seems that your patience is already running low. You really don't understand-"

          "Then just tell me! Tell me what I don't understand!" Thomas interrupted with a slightly raised voice, finally bursting out in anger, though not too much. "You know what, no, don't tell me. I don't want to know, nor do I care. Now answer my question."

         "You never asked any question," James replied cooly, letting his eyes once again fall away from the other male. He was avoiding most of the conversation; a conversation that seemed more like a slightly less tense argument. Of course, he was trying to keep a monotoned or empty mood, because after all, he didn't know Thomas almost at all. There was no reason to trust him or even attempt showing signs of vulnerability. Well, any more than he already was to be exact.

         At first, the only response the diminutive male got was a huff of displeasure, though soon words did follow. "What did you do that was so damn bad that this happened to you?!" Thomas exclaimed, his voice a little closer to its normal tone once more, yet still exasperated.

        "What I did or didn't do is none of your business," said James, voice still void of most, yet still it was tinted with sarcasm. However, that was the truth in James' eyes. Yes it was true that this man had decided to help - more like save - him. To be honest he wasn't thankful. Of course, he should have been, after all, it was truly terrible to be in such a place as that for such a prolonged time. Although there was a single problem: A part of James told himself he deserved to be in there and rot away, tortured until he was dead. 

      The voice of Thomas broke up his thoughts, the obvious anger building up never leaving just yet, a thick feeling of hostility blanketing them both. "I don't see how you could be this ungrateful. I saved you! You were undoubtedly dying, and now that you have a chance to get healthy again you don't think for a second I could just leave you somewhere, or better yet just kill you myself. That would help, wouldn't it? Apparently, nothing else I'm doing is helping in your eyes."

        "I'm not ungrateful," James argued, though before he could even say another single word he was cut off.

        "You sure as hell seem like it."

       "I am grateful, really. You are a very oblivious person aren't you though? You just think what you want to think without analyzing anything else. I don't want to argue with you, but you seem so content with only doing just that. You say you want a conversation and yet here you are getting irritated by my every word. I know what I'm saying might be annoying you, but that's my intent you see? You'll eventually want to stop talking to me. However, I'm not surprised or even phased by the mere thought of you killing me. Sure I'm in awful condition, but you don't know what I can do, so you won't do anything. You know not to underestimate people. So perhaps I was wrong; you do analyze things, just simultaneously with other thoughts. Am I right? Now you can do whatever you want with me. It won't be the first time someone has helped me and then decided against doing so. I'm not even going to try stopping you if you attempt getting rid of me," James hissed back quickly, this being the most he's said at one singular time in the time span he has spent here in the others home. 

        Thomas was in silence for a moment, letting the other's venomous words process individually as he aimed at keeping his heightening anger to a minimum. He only looked down at the other male across the room, again taking everything in. As a thief, Thomas would know how to tell a lot about a person just by observing them, but now that was damn near impossible. Even with what little James had spoken since they had gotten acquainted with another it was still hard to tell anything about him. Sure there was the quite obvious things, such as his injuries, but other than that he was a total mystery. That wasn't completely true, the shorter actually seemed rather familiar. Just if Thomas could find out why. 

        "I'm the one getting irritated by every word? Look at yourself, you are here practically saying that I'm asking for an argument," The taller male shot back, catching himself before he said more. He didn't need to argue like this, and if he was James he would know that the other man didn't want to be like this always. He couldn't help himself. "Look, James I don't want to argue with you. I really don't. I just want to know a little bit about you. I'm keeping you safe for now, it's the least you could do."

          Thomas could tell that James was actually thinking about what he said, because the other didn't snap back with something. As irrational half of the things James said were, they weren't too ignorant. After a few seconds he heard a sigh from the direction of the bed, indicating that it was - very obviously - James who had sighed. "It's not your fault I'm being like this, but I'm well aware that someone like you already knows that-"

         "Someone like me?"

         "Somewhat egotistical. That's besides the point. What I'm saying is that I'm sorry. You don't understand. I know I already said that, but you really don't. You're putting yourself in danger by keeping me here. I don't trust you, but I am thankful for the help. I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about myself...," replied James, his voice soft and less hostile now. Thomas wouldn't exactly call it bipolar, but it did seem easy to change the other's mood. Or so he thought.

         "Why can't you tell me about yourself? Are you hiding something?" Thomas inquired with a raised eyebrow. Everyone had something to hide, but he meant it diffrently. 

          "I suppose I am, but isn't everyone? Let's just say I'm the same as you."


	7. Chapter 7

Clearly James' words had confused the taller man, his eyebrows furrowing together. "The same as me? What is that suppose to mean?" questioned Thomas as he breathed out a short-lived chuckle, unsure of what James could have meant. After all, it could have meant a number of different things, and if it was up to him none of those things would have been good. Yes, he could be a bit of a narcissist and a hot-head, but he did realize those were also flaws. Thankfully, James here didn't seem like much of a narcissist. He did get agitated easily, and had even admitted to that very trait. Thomas, despite his annoyance, didn't see much wrong with that. He would be a hypocrite if he said the non-levelheadedness bothered him greatly. It did make him frustrated, but not to the point he would act out on any specific threats.

In return, he received a small nod followed by the other man's words, "Yes, the same as you. I'm the same as you in more way than one. It means whatever you want it to mean, but don't think too much about it. It's awful to overthink things." There it was; James' somewhat passive way of explaining things. The man was definitely a confusing person when it came to personality. One minute his entire speech consisted of coldness, and sarcasm. The next would be calmer, said in a more friendly tone that apparently meant no harm. Thomas had to say the mystery and personality this man held was intriguing. It was actually quite hard to say, considering this was was most probable to be the friendliest conversation they have held together.

"Please explain, because I really don't know. How so are we alike?" Thomas questioned, stepping towards James. He only paused his few light steps as he saw the other visibly tense up. "Why are you like that?" He added on, hoping for a cooperative response to one of his many queries. Over the time that the taller man had known the possible criminal he had noted a few important things. One of those many of things was that James really did enjoy his space. He would stiffen up if Thomas neared him, though the diminutive man tried to hide his anxious actions. Thomas knew, however, because any time James was even remotely touched, he would tense up more than usual, as if expecting something. Oh, how he was too. Spending time in a cell for months at a time made him suspicious and not trusting, though he already was each of these things. It was defiant and obvious. Not even the most oblivious person could not guess it.

"It is better that you don't know the answer," James elucidated. The last query confused him, but deep down he already knew exactly what the lanky male was asking about. "Why am I like what?" He questioned in return. It was almost humorous how these two went from bantering to a semi-friendly conversation. It wouldn't hurt to talk a little, right? That was James' thoughts for now, but he knew he could be proved very wrong. He hated to converse with anyone throughout most of his life so it would be rather strange to have that habit suddenly change out of the blue. It wasn't impossible, but he highly doubted this man would be able to change something about himself so quickly after meeting. Despite being saved by Thomas, he didn't exactly trust the man. If Thomas was smart he would have already figured out by now why James did not trust him. He didn't trust him for the same reason they were alike. The other should not trust him for the exact same reason. James told himself he wouldn't do anything, especially after Thomas helped him. Well, he attempted to at least,

"You tense up all the time. I'm not going to hurt you," Thomas replied, cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed near James. The latter was quiet for a moment, although once Thomas glanced back at him, he was met with the others slightly glaring gaze. James opened his mouth to say his response, but he was cut off by the other now speaking once again. "I know what I said before, but I'm not going to do anything to harm you. I know you suffered a lot, and it's taking awhile to get better. I wouldn't do that to you, James. I've done many bad things to people, but I won't do anything to you. I want to help you. You just have to let me." His 'attempts' to help mostly consisted of just that; convincing. It never worked well, but Thomas still tried day and day. James was building his strength back up, so even when the taller would physically try to help, he was pushed away. Always he would try again anyways.

"I don't know that you won't do anything for a good, trusting fact. That is why I keep tensing up. Okay? Don't even attempt proving a point, because it won't work. You'll just have to deal with me not trusting you," James supplied, keeping the least amount of sarcasm he could into his words. He kept getting so hostile so fast. It wasn't as if he meant anything by it, or was actually trying to be this way. Well, for the most part anyways. It was amusing to mess with the other actually, yet he knew he really shouldn't. If he forgot why, perhaps he would just remind himself that he could barely move without something paining him. He could easily push Thomas to far.

Thomas released a sigh, leaning back ever so slightly, using his hands and arms for support so that he wouldn't fall back and hit the wall that the bed resided beside. "Fine. Could you at least answer my first question. How are we alike?" He remarked, obviously anxious for a real answer. James could at least answer that, correct? He seemed like the type of person to hide a lot, but Thomas didn't think it could possibly be that bad. Still, it was as if he already held the answer, but his mind locked it away for another time when he absolutely wouldn't need it. It always seemed to happen to him. Had James secretly already told him the answer, but he paid no attention, or was it so painfully obvious to everyone's eyes that Thomas failed to see it? The lofty man would admit that he did not pay attention to important things at some times.

"I told you it was best you didn't know. You do seem so intent on having some sort of answer, so I'll tell you that it has something to do with why I was were I was before you came along," James remarked, sighing and moving a few inches further from the other man sitting on the uncomfortable bed. 

So James was simply implying they were alike for a reason he was in that cell. It seemed like an easy thing to figure out, but Thomas' brain refused to help him on the matter much. There could have been so many answers. "Just one reason? Did you steal something?" Thomas asked, turning his head to face the shorter man. It seemed very probable in Thomas' mind. Stealing was the most common reason people were placed into jail. There we a number of very idiotic causes as to why men and women were placed in a cell. Pray you don't get caught if you cheat on your wife. 

However, those who stole and got caught normally would have the hand they stole with cut off. If they were very unlucky, it would start with their fingers, and only when those were gone would they cut the hand off from the wrist. No, it couldn't have been stealing, could it have been? James clearly still had both of his hands.

Only when James gave a faint grin did Thomas realize his mistake. 

"So you steal? Are you a thief then? Well known?" The shorter man questioned, though more so implied it as a fact. Of course he didn't answer Thomas' question, but instead gave three more in response. This seemed how most of the conversation went. At least for the other it did. 

Thomas stammered over his response, the correct words not forming. If that didn't answer James' question, he didn't know what would. It was only obvious because of how baffled the tall man seemed to be. He showed no similar traits of being that surprised and in denial the entire week or more that James had been around him. Sure he didn't say much, and Thomas did most of the talking, but he did pay attention to his behavior and personality. He did more so than he usually did with people.

"N-no! Of course not! Why would I do that when I have plenty here," Thomas exclaimed, waving a hand furiously as if to dismiss it entirely. He had only then realized that almost any attempt to convince the other differently would be difficult indeed. After all he said it was something they had in common that got him placed there, and foolishly Thomas thought of and said the easiest and most possible answer. He hadn't even noticed that was James intent. With a sigh he nodded instead of spitting out some stupid excuse. Thomas did not need to spill everything, so instead he told half of the truth. "Yes I've stolen a few things here and there, but it's never much and never often."

James nodded, seemingly pleased with the response, though he stayed silent for a good couple of seconds in thought? "Are you sure?" He finally replied.

"What?"

"I mean are you lying?"

"Why would I be?"

"Hmm. Fair enough. What exactly were you doing when you found me?"

Thomas opened his mouth to reply with yet another lie, but stopped in his tracks. That was the easiest James had ever agreed to something. He had to be careful with his next words. Well, his next words never came as the other man spoke up once more.

"You were looking for the riches down there weren't you? Actually don't answer that, because I already know you are going to deny It or lie. I know for a fact you were. Want to know why?" He paused, but the length of time wasn't enough for Thomas to actually speak. "I know, because no right-minded fool would walk in and out of a place like that so readily. You even took the time to take the armor of that guard you killed outside. You were more cautious than most people were, and you were quiet. Usually that's a trait that thieves have. So answer me again, truthfully this time. Are you lying?" James spoke slowly, yet quick enough that Thomas couldn't get an opening to interrupt him. As the injured male waited for an initiated response, the lankier man stared at him in shock. He had to admit that for a quiet and hostile person, he very much paid attention well. 

Thomas had to think about this truthfully. A part of him was genuinely afraid to lie to this practical stranger, something he rarely felt. It was easy to lie to people, but this mans eyes seemed to hold an endless, dark glaring feeling. He had a simple choice; lie or tell the truth. What was it about this stranger that made him feel and act differently?

"I...I...Yes. I was looking for riches. Yeah, I was lying, but what can you do about it?" Thomas replied, surprisingly friendly in tone. He wasn't agitated or annoyed, just shocked and confused with both this man and himself. He expected another sarcastic answer, or another question, maybe even another thing to heighten his quizzical thoughts. What he did not expect was for James to hold up a dagger. It was not just any dagger, but it was his own; One he always had with him and almost never took off or sat down. Perhaps James actually could do something..

"I can do whatever I please really. Despite the pain it brings me to move, and even though your guard is up, I can still badly wound you. Your a very energetic person, so I doubt I would go unharmed if I did attempt anything. Luckily for you, I won't. Now, you are probably wondering how I could have possibly gotten this. You are a light sleeper, but I'm also light on my feet. It was hard to get, but now I have it. I did take notice to the name engraved onto the metal," James replied, twisting the dagger around in his single hand. At the end of his explanation he stopped slowly spinning the blade, allowing the name to be seen on the metal.

Jefferson.

"I believe your first name was Thomas." James said almost nonchalantly, looking boringly over at the other man. "Thomas Jefferson. I was wondering which one you were. I knew you weren't Paine. I've met him and his far less cocky than you. Also less wanted." 

"I don't know what you're thinking, but if you think you are going to get reward money out of this-"

"Ah, there it is. Thank you for confirming that you are indeed Thomas Jefferson. A little pushing is all it takes to get the answers you need. Now, I don't plan on getting any money. That would be terribly idiotic for me to even try to turn you in. Sure money is nice and all, but I don't need it. I also don't hate you, and don't think you necessarily need to be put in jail."

Thomas was now feeling himself to grow anxious. Normally he would be able to find something to say easily, but his mind was to busy thinking. James was to good at this. He was getting answers Thomas didn't even know he wanted. Hell, he even managed to get his dagger without him noticing. Wait..

"Piece it together, Jefferson. If you're thinking what I assume you are, it won't take you long to figure out. You're not a stupid man."

"You're a thief," Thomas said, almost baffled. He knew it. That was the exact same thing that his mind seemed to be hiding from him in plain sight. James was very good at this, considering he was injured. It made him wonder what it would have been like if he had found him in a perfectly okay state. If he thought about it more, there weren't many well known, or living thieves named James that he knew of, and he was aware that this man wasn't a ghost. Even his face looked familiar. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"James Madison."

"That's my name, yes."

"You're James Madison."

"I believe so."

"I thought you would be-"

"Taller?"

Thomas could only chuckle stressfully, nodding. The man he saved was a well known and very wanted thief. How in the hell did he not notice? All the signs were there. "You didn't want me to find out?" He questioned, slowly getting off of the bed to stand up once more. How was he taking this so easily? 

James nodded, "I didn't want you to know, but you would have found out eventually. Like I said, you aren't stupid." His tone was calm, too calm for Thomas' liking. However, if he looked closer he could tell the smaller male was anxious, nervous in fact. Of he thought about it, he seemed to be that way very often. Was his normal coldness a way to cover up a different shyness? "Besides aren't you known to try to turn in other thieves for money? That's very untrusting if you didn't already figure that out," James pointed out, tapping his fingers on the soft fabric of the mattress. 

"What?!" Thomas exclaimed, his eyes widening slightly, a furious flare In his eyes. "Why would I turn in other thieves for money!?"

"Well there's a number of reasons. I never said it was true. Besides I heard that before I was caught and put in that wrenched place."

"It's not true. That's awful even for someone like me. Who knows how long you've been in there! Why would you believe that?" Thomas wasn't exactly annoyed with James, rather that somehow, someone somewhere managed to get people to believe that. It was actually pretty easy nowadays. 

"I never said it was true," James repeated. "I can't just trust one person's word over another's. I have to figure it out myself without anyone else, because most people lie to me anyways. I can tell you how long I've been in there actually. What month is it?"

Thomas huffed out a breath, crossing his arms. "March." James seemed to freeze, his tapping coming to a halt. Even his breath seemed to stop.

"Oh god..."

"What?"

"It's been that long..?"

"What do you mean?"

James's attention was back to Thomas, his fingers presumably going back to anxiously tapping onto the mattress. "Five months. That's how long I've been in there. That doesn't mean I have to trust what you say," He remarked, almost in a snappy way. Obviously he wanted the subject off of the amount of time he was in there, but of course Thomas pressed on anyways. 

"You've been in there for five months? You've been tortured for five months like that?" His voice was more welcoming. He was sympathizing with the diminutive male. 

"Yes," replied James. 

"Does that not bother you? You're finally free from five months of that and yet you stayed here anyways and now I know exactly who you are."

"It does bother me, but that's none of your business whether it does or not. I could have lied to you anyways."

"But you didn't. I can tell you're telling the truth. Why would you lie and say you were a wanted man?"

"Can we talk about something else."

"No."

"And why is that, Mr. Jefferson?"

"Because, Mr. Madison. This is the most I've gotten you to say to me in a little more than a week. If I have a wanted fugitive in my house, I'm asking some questions and you're going to answer."

"You're wanted too you know. You may not notice the posters with your name on them everywhere, but everyone else does."

"That's besides the point," The taller their retorted. "Are you going to answer my questions or not? I swear to whatever you believe in I' not going to hurt you. I'm not going to turn you in either. I want to help."

James sighed out, sitting up straighter. It was getting a little easier to move despite how bruised his ribs were. At least most other things were healing. Well, sort of. It didn't help that he denied any more of Jefferson's help. Even if he appreciates it, there was something telling him he didn't need the help, or the pity. What ever this was. Finally he nodded. "If you answer my question and allow me to say one other thing before that I will cooperate."

"Alright. Ask, and then expect questions. You bettered answer, James." Even though Thomas had said his name before, He liked the way it sounded in his mouth. James Madison. That sounded even better. It was actually nice to have a non-hostile conversation with another very wanted thief that apparently didn't want to kill him. Did James even kill people? People always said that the man was wanted for stealing, not killing.. Not even Jefferson himself was known for killing, despite his very wild nature. 

"One, the riches were down the left corridor. You went down the right and found me," Madison informed him with a half smile, barely noticeable. "And my question: Why do you still want to help even though you know who I am?" James did look baffled when Thomas said he wanted to help still. He did say it very sincerely, because he was indeed being genuine.

"Look, James, no one needs to go through that. I don't think even you deserve months of torture for whatever you did. These times have horrid wats of making a point, and if I didn't save you no one would have. I did think of leaving you there, but you looked so helpless and weak. I saved you, because I care."

If James didn't look surprised before, He did now. So...someone actually did something for him because they cared? Sure it could have been anyone in that cell, but Thomas still cared... Damn. He's been so bitter this entire time. Sure, Jefferson was an easily agitated asshole, but the man was trying to help. Should he trust him? Maybe he should...Yet, He hasn't trusted someone normally since he was a kid. He gave two simple gestures; A single nod of understanding, and a wave of his hand to tell him to go on with his questions. 

Thomas took a deep breath, letting it out in a loud sigh as he thought. His eyes travelled over the floorboards, before snapping back to James, who for the first time didn't look the tiniest bit hostile. It may not last long, but boy did he enjoy the feeling of not having those dark eyes burn a hole through his head. "You are a thief, correct."

"Yeah," responded James, tilting his head as it was an obvious answer. 

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Thomas questioned hesitantly. He had killed people himself, just not many. Even if his personality was reckless, he didn't like killing people.

James hummed positively in response, unsure if he should have answered that truthfully. He had definitely killed people before. 

"Okay, what were you in that cell for? How did they catch you and for what I mean."

God it felt like being interrogated all over again. "Listening." That was all James said, and it earned a very quizzed look from Jefferson. For two wanted thieves who seemed to n it get along at first, things were going very smoothly as of now. Yet James still wasn't giving full answers of course. Always so difficult. It's what made his stay in that damn cell so much worse. 

"Listening? Please explain."

"I'm not completely sure I should tell you, but for your own well-being and safety I will. You'll want to leave after I tell you, but that's what I'm aiming for." Oh dear.


	8. Chapter 8

"So you're telling me that you had to endure all of that just because you over heard some of the kings-men talking about something that could most likely not happen?" Thomas questioned, his back now facing the other man, a very perplexed look taking over his expression. This was suppose to clear up the confusion not make it worse! "Are you sure?" All he received was an insistent nod from James. "God I know this place is terrible, but I wouldn't have ever expected that. You do believe that what you heard is true? I mean that was months ago! You would have thought that they would have already gone through with this if it was actually true. I just don't know if I should believe you."

James sighed, an annoyed look taking over, his hand dragging down his face. "Yes it was months ago, and yes I still believe it. George wants to practically enslave the entire kingdom, plus some. It's hard to do that when you are at war quite frankly. He has other matters on his hands as of now." 

"Plus some?"

"Plus some."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means he's trying to win the war so he can take over the other kingdom. Hazektav," elucidated James. 

"Isn't that kingdom far north though?"

James gritted his teeth together, his jaw clenched down tightly. "Yes. Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"I'm not being difficult!" Thomas exclaimed, receiving an exasperated look from the other man. "Don't look at me like that! I'm not! You're saying all of this stupid stuff and then giving absolutely no useful answers. You are practically dancing around it all."

"It's not stupid."

"See! That's my point," The taller huffed out, groaning distressfully.

"You're asking stupid questions. I'm answering just because you seem to like the attention."

"James-"

"If I'm being honest I don't think you hate arguing with me half as much as you let on."

"Fuck you."

"No. Maybe if you try again later."

Thomas' face grew red in frustration and then embarrassment as he realized what James answered with. He fumbled over his words, and if he was really paying attention he thought he saw the others cheeks darken ever so slightly, shocked by what he said himself. He was just messing with him; joking, spiting him perhaps? Whatever it was Thomas chose to ignore it. "Just...cooperate,"

James was looking down, wearing an expression that simply said it all. One of those 'What the hell did I just say?' types of faces. He nodded bluntly. It was probably the simplest answer Thomas had gotten in so little time. Why did he just say that? It probably wasn't that big of a deal. After all Thomas didn't act hostile. Wait...They always act hostile. Any other time he would have said something like that he would have been ridiculed. Maybe Thomas was mad and was just like everyone else that found out. What if this all was a dream, and some random stranger hadn't helped him. This was just something his mind made up to cope with the upcoming insanity that they were causing. If he had not have said that, even as a joke, if they didn't know-

"Can you explain it all now?" Thomas questioned, sighing right after the words ran out. "Then I have more questions."

Another nod. James took a deep breath, looking up again. "Sorry..." His voice was much softer than before, more nervous and natural. It actually made it seem like he finally other than blunt, cold, and sarcastic. James spoked more, going onto the explanation with the same tone. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. I seemed to stay like that for a good minute or two, leaving the other man confused.

"James? You were going to explain." Thomas prompted after the silence went on for five minutes straight. James was looking at him, but he also wasn't. His mind seemed elsewhere. "Are you okay?" He asked hesitantly. It wasn't strange for Thomas to care about other people. After all he was not a heartless, cold human being that only stole to make others lives miserable. He just wanted to stay alive.

For James it was different. A look of confusion passed over his previously blank face, a speck of anxiety in his eyes. He questioned every act of kindness, every worried glance, and each singular time someone asked that exact question. "What?" He finally asked. James knew what he was asked, but still said this nonetheless in hopes of avoiding the question. Not many asked that question, and he was afraid when they did no one ever really cared. 

"I asked if you were okay. You still haven't began to explain, and you're staring off into nothing," Thomas provided, crossing his arms. He shouldn't be so worried about this man, James. It wasn't like him to care much for people like him; normally cold and mischievous. Although thieves had to be the latter, as it was in their nature, James' was more on a manipulative level. Thomas had no clue if worrying about him was a good idea. 

"Doesn't matter. I'll just begin to explain now," James responded, waving his left hand in the air to dismiss it. He should have known avoiding the question wasn't probable, especially with someone like Thomas. 

"Are you sure?" Thomas asked persistently. The man was definitely persistent, James could give him that.

James knew that he wouldn't give up unless he was given a full answer, so he nodded, not waiting for another response. As Thomas opened his mouth to speak, presumably another question like the previous one, James cut him off.

"Before I was captured by the kings men I was simply walking around. That's all. I wasn't actually doing anything bad. That's usually how people get arrested right? Well not me-"

"So you weren't stealing?"

"I may be a thief, Jefferson, but that's not the only thing I do in my life. Anyways, back to the point I was getting to. There were a few men standing there talking about something, laughing. I was just curious, as usual. Curiosity always has gotten me into trouble. Well when I got closer I realized what they were talking about. New plans for the kingdom apparently. Something about the people having too much freedom, too much money. That's desecration. Many, if not all, people here are poor and barely scraping by. They said something about enslaving the people of Verin. There was more, but I hadn't caught much of it. I know they postponed the plans because of the war that broke out between the kingdom's. It could take a long time before anything happens, but it might as well already has," James remarked, never once making eye contact with the other man in the room; in fact Thomas was the only other person in the room. James at least hoped that. Having more individuals find out about his knowledge wouldn't lead to anything good. The king had spies, and it wasn't uncommon for them to lurk amongst the peasants homes.

"It is plausible...," muttered Thomas, his hand brought to his face to prod at his chin thoughtfully. "He's a crazed king, a mad man, George is definitely that. No lies there. I've been around many guards and many men and women who work under his rule specifically and not once have they thrown about something of these sorts. As I said, it is reasonable, but I can't just believe it at a whim," He explained with a truly perplexed look, digging into this information carefully. There must be something missing in the information. It was so simple, but rulers didn't work that way did they? There had to be some reason other than the aspects of greed and sadisticity. 

"George believes he is of higher power. If I had to add on anything else I would say he thinks he's higher than the Gods. Perhaps he wants to do this for a different reason, but I can't think of any. He's not a very humane man. He could eat a meal in front of thousand of dying, tortured men, women, and children. Nothing good has ever come of him. His dear wife, I feel bad for that lady. Oh, and his advisor, Seabury, He barely listens to the man-"

"How do you know so much about him?" Thomas intervened, truly awaiting an answer anxiously.

"I know people," James responded simply. That was that, and that was nothing else. 

"Alright. Is there anything else that you heard? What happened to you? I mean that I am asking how you got into this whole situation." Thomas decided it was best to leave James answer at that. Everybody knows people, but which ones was the real question. 

"I tried to move closer to hear them better. They hadn't heard me, rather they saw me. Terrible mistake on my part. I wasn't being cautious. Of course they realized I had been listening. Those men aren't the brightest, but they aren't complete fools either. I went to run but an arrow found it's way through my calf. That's not the easiest to run on," James said, his rejoinder spoken in surprising natural swiftness.

"So then they captured you?" Thomas inquired.

James shook his head solemnly.  "No, not yet. I still tried to get awake. Everyone knows what happens once you get caught by the kingsmen. Not to mention with my record? I'm surprised I'm even alive right now. Then again they aren't much less sadistic than the king himself nowadays," He rambled, quickly stopping himself in haste. "Ah, yes, to the point. My leg gave out, thus tripping me. I wouldn't say they got me easy, because now one of those men sits six feet in the ground with the engraving of a dagger hole in his skull. It was a bad idea on my part. Just made things worse in the end."

"I'm sorry..," Thomas uttered quietly, almost as if he hadn't wanted to be heard entirely.

"Why are you sorry?" James asked with a slight raise of confusion in his soft voice. He had heard Thomas very clear. For a wanted thief he was awful at whispering. The man was far to loud on a normal day for James' liking.

"I...just...I'm sorry you had to go through all of that."

"It was my fault."

"That's the thing, James."

"What?"

"It wasn't. It wasn't your fault."

"I was the one who got curious listening to the wrong people's conversation."

"You're missing the point. What you heard was important, true or not. This could change so many people's lives if he can go through with enslaving an entire kingdom that's his own, plus the ones he takes over! His forces are strong, and there are rumors of a mage in his care. A mage on their own can take down entire armies if they had enough power."

"And you asked me how I knew about him," James replied with sarcasm, sighing soon after. "Say what you want, Jefferson. Look, you have the information I told you. You may not believe me, but I do believe it. I won't be here when that happens. Even if it doesn't. The war is spreading. Soon it will be brought to the source; this exact kingdom. I'm leaving here tomorrow morning."

Thomas didn't exactly have a reaction to most of what James had said, just listening in slight distraught.  It was that last sentence that seemed to make him jolt. "Tomorrow morning?! You've barely healed! I see the pain moving brings you!" He exclaimed. It was funny actually, the fact he didn't know why he wanted James to stay do bad. Even though the man got on his nerves, he enjoyed the company, and would only admit to himself that he did like the quarrels they shared.

"I can't stay here. They will be looking for me. I've been here over a week. Maybe they forgot about me in that cell, but my execution was suppose to be sometime around now. They are very strict abot ex-" James tried to argue hastily, but still managed to get interrupted by the taller male.

"Execution? You were going to be executed!?" He practically shouted, earning a barely visible flinch from James.

"That's usually what happens when a wanted thief gets arrested." James said with a chuckle, and though it was void and made of dark humor, it pulled at Thomas' heart strings. It was a strange feeling, unrecognizable to him now. He ignored it and titled it as him being unsettled. Why was he unsettled at the thought of James leaving? It was blasphemy! Ridiculous!

"Fine. Leave. If something happens don't come crawling back to me, because I won't help you again." Oh, Thomas wanted to scream at himself for being so aggressive now. Clearly even James seemed a little shocked at the sudden aggression. However his look of surprise quickly turned hostile.

"I didn't mean to offend you care," James all but hissed out at Thomas. A part of him yelled sincerity, but his eyes held coldness again. Damn. He was really having a good time enjoying a conversation for once. Though he was unsure what he really did wrong, He ignored it.

"It doesn't matter. We won't see each other again anyways. Just sleep and leave in the morning," Thomas spat back, walking over to his own bed and sitting down. Well, more like falling down onto the bed with almost exasperated drama as his face smothered into an uncomfortable pillow.

"It's only evening," James pointed out, calmly now. It was a fake calm. Very fake.

Thomas huffed and say up a bit to look into James' dark eyes. "Go to fucking sleep. You seem tired all the time anyways so sleep. It's not hard."

James didn't say anything, couldn't really. He didn't have the time or effort to explain his personal life, his reasoning. So he just stayed quiet. It was always so quiet.


	9. Chapter 9

Morning came quickly for Thomas, whom had fallen asleep soon after he fell on the bed, but that wasn't the case for James. He hadn't gotten a single minute of sleep, and was sure if he tried he would have ended up waking up. So many nights that happened. It had been going on for years; this insomnia he had. It couldn't be helped. Sometimes he wouldn't even attempt to sleep, just accepting that even if he did it would still feel like he stayed awake for days. That just so happened to be the case most times. Even staying here. A few nights he would just close his eyes and try to steady his breathing enough to convince Thomas that he was indeed not awake at that moment. As much as he hated to say it, he was starting to like talking to the other man, and even dare to say he began to trust him. That wasn't right. Maybe if he avoided him more then this wouldn't be the truth. It didn't matter anyway as he was leaving soon.

The short male was debating whether he should wait for Thomas to awaken before setting off, or if he should leave without a word. He did suppose the least he could give was a small farewell, especially after the great deal of help Thomas supplied him. It was strange to have someone care, to have someone not try and kill you as soon as they found out who you were. Life was hard. That's all James could say. It wasn't like leaving would hurt Thomas. It would help. That's one less person to care for.

He moved to the edge of the bed, his ribs feeling as if they were being slowly crushed with the little movement. James winced, but still pushed himself to stand from the uncomfortable bed. He stood awkwardly, with weight shifted to one side of his body. His ankles still ached from being dislocated many times, but luckily it wasn't too painful to stand like this. Either that or he was far too used to it by now. He didn't know whether to claim that as a good or bad thing. Probably bad.

Carefully and quietly he walked over to the second room in the small home; the one where Thomas kept everything it seemed. The door had no lock, so James walked in without a problem. All that was in there was a few items of food, clothing, and possibly just old things left in the house before Thomas claimed it. For a few years the kingdom, and many other places, had very many empty homes and buildings. People either died or abandoned them, and before the merchants found out, others would take them as their own. Sometimes entire villages would be abandoned or wiped out and then used as bases for the first kingdom to find them. That was one thing James knew hadn't changed. It had been happening for far to long, and now, well now people learned to care less. The lot of them anyway.

Without a second thought he grabbed a pair of new clothing. Staying in these he had now wasn't the best idea. They were practically rags, torn and bloodied, smelling metallic and sweaty. He was used to it, but that didn't exactly mean he enjoyed staying in the clothes. Pulling off the old clothing he put the new ones on, his still healing wrist proving the task difficult. The newer, cleaner shirt was an olive green color, slightly too big for his smaller frame. It wasn't a problem, and was better than what he had. The pants were dark brown, and well, he didn't exactly have anything in the way of shoes. He sighed, setting his old clothing somewhere else. It didn't matter. Nothing seemed to. This wouldn't be the first time he went off somewhere without anything to cover his feet. 

Normally he would take a few things, not really caring whose house he was in or where he was, but decided against it. He could find food somewhere else along the way. Where was be going anyway? Dammit, He hadn't even thought of that. Albeit, that was normal. Most of the time he just went where ever he could to stay alive. Safety was a joke. It was out of question. 

A creek of floorboards made him jump in the slightest, whirling around to see a tired looking Thomas standing there. Jefferson didn't say anything at first, looking around the small room and looking James over skeptically. James hadn't said a word either, neither of them breaking the deep silence for a good minute or two. 

"Are those my clothes?" Thomas finally questioned nonchalantly, looking into the others dark, cold eyes.

"Well they weren't mine," said James, smiling ever so slightly. Even though he didnt have a good reaction to James wanting to leave, he seemed okay now, so Madison didn't see a problem with acting slightly friendly for the time being. He just wanted to leave. "Now they are."

Thomas sighed. The truth was, he didn't want James to leave. It was lonely living his life like this. He wondered if James ever got lonely. With how he acted, it seemed like he had no loyal acquaintances with anyone. "It doesn't matter. You can take what you need. Where are your shoes?" Thomas had noted that the other didn't have anything on his feet at the moment. 

"I don't have any. You don't have any I can take either. I don't need anything else," James responded, glancing around the room once more. Of course he could take food, as it wasn't easy to come by, and buying food was out of question with no money. He didn't have anything to hunt with, so stealing would have to suffice for now.   
"Although, you have my thanks."

"Are you sure you're leaving soon? Today?" Thomas couldn't help himself from asking. He was getting attached to someone he barely knew, just because he was lonely. He rather liked the company of this man, despite most of their conversations being arguments or small quarrels. It didn't help James was wanted. Very wanted. Not only would helping him get him in trouble, he was worth a great amount himself already. Both of them were practically a second away from death each moment they stayed together, and in this kingdom. Perhaps leaving would be a good idea for James. Still, He was wounded. His injuries hadn't healed quite yet. Thomas was just contradicting himself. 

"Yes," James replied with a small frown. He couldn't help but feel a little bad. Thomas seemed pretty content on keeping him here, and he didn't know whether to find that creepy or nice. Nobody ever really wanted him around, at least not for good intentions. "Well...I guess this is good-bye. I doubt we will see each other again," He added on, a little reluctantly. A part of James liked being around Thomas. His personality was less monotoned than his own. Thomas was a bit of a prick, but so was he. He couldn't really complain, because that would make him a hypocrite to his own word. Besides, Jefferson did care about other people it seemed, but his ego covered that part of his personality quite a bit.

"Yeah, uh, bye?" It came out as more of a question, Thomas looking a little hesitant with his words. He wanted to say more, of course he did, but James wanted to leave. He couldn't keep him from that. It wasn't his choice on what James said, and quite frankly it was obvious that the shorter man didn't care what he said or thought. 

The silence that followed now was awkward, nothing else to say other than that. James and Thomas were both unsure if they should say something else. Eventually, however, James stepped past Thomas. "Thank you for your help, Thomas," He murmured, before walking out of the room completely. A part of him actually wanted to stay here with Thomas, with another person. God knows he wouldn't meet anyone friendly any time soon. However, he knew he couldn't stay here. He didn't even know how Thomas stayed here. A thief in such a big kingdom was a death wish. Yeah, sure he was here, but he had a reason. At least James thought he did. If Thomas stayed he would probably die or live an awful life like everyone else here. Most thieves didn't steal money for the hell of it, so that must have meant Thomas was looking for money for a good reason. As much as he said he didn't believe what James heard, he had a feeling he did believe him at least a little. When he was explaining he had seen the look of paranoia in Jeffersons eyes for just a moment.

A few seconds later, Thomas heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing. A sigh escaped his mouth, his eyes falling to the ground, before he turned around to walk back into the main room. A part of him wanted to go with James, to make sure he at least makes it out of this awful kingdom okay. Throughout the years there were more and more guards everywhere. Turn right on the streets, guards. Turn left, guards. They were just everywhere. Why? He didn't know. There had been a drop in crime, doubling the public executions for thieves, murderers, and criminals. Were they just trying to get rid of the crime? There was a damn war going on, that should be the least of their worries. Yet here they are. Granted the war wasn't to bad here. There was a drop in food and other traded goods. Not many merchants or traders came by anymore. Even the harbors were lacking.

Thomas let his hands drop to his sides completely, his palms hitting the sides of his thighs. There was a problem though. There was something missing. Quickly he looked down, patting the sheath that both of his daggers were suppose to be in. The thing was that they weren't. The corners of his lips curled up into a smile despite the slightly ticked feeling in him. "That little...," He began to mutter to himself, walking back into the small back room and grabbing a bag. He should have known James would do something like that. It only took him a minute to throw a few things in the small leather pouch, before hastily rushing out of the home. 

Looking around, he spotted James, whom wasn't even attempting to hide himself from anyone, walking down the longest alley-like street. It hadn't even been five minutes so of course he couldn't have gotten far. He was practically limping, not walking. Thomas didn't know whether to be amused, confused, or annoyed that James had stolen his daggers. They were pretty special to him.

He didn't bother being careful himself, running over to the other. "James!" He called, not receiving so much as a glance even as he caught up to the other, slowing to his pace.

"Jefferson," James mimicked in a calmer tone, holding his hand out towards Thomas. In his hand was one of his two daggers.

"Where is the other one?" Thomas asked, swiftly taking the knife from the others hand, a slight glare to his gaze.

"With me. You'll get it back, don't worry."

"I'll get it back now."

"You'll get it back when I give it to you," James retorted. He still hadn't glanced at Thomas, focused forwards and occasionally looking to the side, or down at the cobblestone walkway. 

"And when will that be? Why the hell did you take them when you said you didn't need anything?"

"When I feel like it. I lied, because I did need something else."

"What does that have to do with stealing my weapons, I had other on-"

"Company."

"What?"

"I need company," James responded, looking to the right at the opening door of a small house, but you could easily tell there was a smile on his face.

Thomas sighed, resting his face in his hand as the two continued walking. He was stolen from just because James didn't want to be lonely. "Oh, so you do enjoy my company? I thought I was an asshole." What can he say? He couldn't help himself. It did seem to get James' attention, because he looked up at Thomas.

"You're still a narcissistic asshole, but you're not too boring. Besides, you helped me. I could help you. Something like that. I don't know, most people have tried to kill me by now. I don't really know how this stuff works. Besides, you don't want to stay here. That's why you brought that bag. You don't need these daggers, and could have let me keep them," James replied, looking down again. 

"Actually they are important to me," Thomas remarked, skeptically looking James over, trying to figure out where his other dagger was. Upon inspection, he realized James also stole one of the sheaths for the daggers. "A girl had them made for me."

"Mhm. Not interested." That earned another glare from Thomas.

"Okay fine. You were right, I'm coming with you because it's probably a good idea to leave here. What are you interested in? I don't know anything about you. If I'm coming with you I should know more about you."

"No. You're not going to get to know me," James replied in haste, his tone changing to a sharp one, his own glare stirring up. He didn't need anyone to get to know him. He didn't need to trust Thomas, especially so quickly. Why did he feel like he should though? "Reading." You, part of him wanted to say instead. Why? another asked. "I'm interested in that," He said after a sigh. Almost instantly after he received a slightly confused look from Jefferson. "What?"

"You can read?" He asked hesitantly.

"Of course?" James said in almost the exact same tone.

"Well, aren't you special."

"Is that a weird thing here or something?" James couldn't really say much. Most places he went the people could barely read or write. He guessed he was just lucky. "Can you read?"

Thomas shrugged. "Some." In all honesty he actually enjoyed this conversation, despite it just starting. James seemed against it at first, but was okay now. That man hated talking, Thomas had already noted. This was probably unusual. "So, since I'm coming with you can you tell me where we're going?"

"U-um."

"James?"

"No?"

"What do you mean no? You wanted to leave, so we need a place to go."

James didn't answer right away, opening his mouth to talk, but closing it soon after. "I.." He said he didn't want to open up, but still he spoke. "I've never stayed in the same place for more than a month at once. I just...just travel around a lot and do what I can to survive," He replied, looking down a little, a certain look in his eyes.

"Oh...well I know of this little abandoned camp a little outside the North Entrance. Would that work?"

"I suppose. Do you think someone would have raided or taken it over by now?" James asked, casually kicking a loose rock from the stone. 

"It's not anything worth taking," Thomas replied with a shrug of his shoulders, tapping his fingers against his thighs.

"Then it wouldn't be worth our time." The response wasn't exactly cold or blunt, but said in a factly sort of way, as if it was obvious. Though it lacked a confident tone. James wasn't talking to boost his confidence. His coldness was just a mechanism of hiding.

"It's not that bad either," stated Jefferson plainly, rolling his dark brown eyes in sarcasm. "Just trust me okay?"

"And why should I?"

"God, you're so complicated! Just trust me. If you didn't at least a little you wouldn't have stole my daggers or wanted my company." Thomas looked at James knowingly, well aware he had made a point. However the response he got wasn't what he expected.

It was nothing exciting, just a shrug and a, "I guess you're right."

Silence followed those words, blanketing them in uncomfortable quiet, though neither man dared to break it. The only noises were the ones from the passerby's, the occasional patter of wheels on ground, or the quick paced padding of a child running.

Apparently they had made some sort of mutual agreement, because for the most part Thomas lead the way, walking ahead of James most of the time, only to stop and wait for the other. He thought he was being purposely slower than he had to be. Of course he was still injuried, but this was ridiculous! Thomas told him to hurry once, but all he received was an obscene gesture from the smaller male. With a sigh he just kept on walking.

It didn't actually take the two long to reach the part of the kingdom they would make their escape in. It only took a few alley turns and some avoiding of randomly pstrolly guards to make it there. Over all it seemed easy. That wasn't the difficult part however. For a good thief it was actually rather unfazing to pass through someplace unknown. These two didn't even need to try.

Onto the hard part. Obviously the two men couldn't just walk right through one of the gates without being questioned or recognized. If they were, James would be back at square one and Thomas wouldn't be in any better case. Luckily for them, Thomas had lead them to a poverty stricken little village inside A'vaarel that greatfully had an old hole in the wall surrounding the entire kingdom. It was made in a previous war some years ago by the people who lived in the area that needed to smuggle items or people in and out. It was still used to this day, and no one there would mind. The guards never found it because a familiar old house was built directly in front of it.

Although James didn't know this, and a look of confusion swept over him when the walked near the broken down house. "I thought you were leading us out of the kingdom, not..." James trailed off, his unsteady pace coming to a stop outside the door frame of the home, a similar paranoia that Thomas had seen before in his eyes was present. He didn't trust him. Jefferson should have known better than have not explained before hand. Even with his cocky attitude and James' sarcastic one, he knew to be careful, and was well aware that the shorter was hiding his true emotions behind coldness and hostility. 

"Oh, right!" He exclaimed, stopping as well to fully face Madison with a reassuring, charming grin. "There's a hole in the wall."

"This is a house," James stated pointedly, shifting his weight uncomfortably and awkwardly, looking over the house and Jefferson skeptically. 

"Come in the house and you'll understand," remarked Thomas, waiting for no response as he continued to walk in, waving a hand for James to do the same and follow. 

Surprisingly, James did. He peeked inside, looking around until he noticed that pretty much the entire back wall was missing. In its place was a wall, the kingdom's defense wall. In the corner was a hole bug enough for a person or two to fit through. Slowly his slouching posture lessened, though not by much, and he walked closer, curiously. "When was this here?" He questioned, peeking out to the other side of the wall and into the forest that followed it's presence. 

"Been here for around ten years."

"The last war?" James quizzed, looking back at Thomas.

"The last war," Thomas confirmed. He clasped his hands together firstly, before joining Madison near their way to the camp, going to place his hand on James' shoulder, but stopping short seeing the uncomfortable look on the diminutive man's face as he cringed away. "Aha, sorry. Let's go." With this he walked out, careful with the sharp depree of rock.

James nodded, following soon after. The two began to walk in silence at first, until James had decided to speak up, much to Thomas surprise. "You know I'm glad to finally get away from there. Are you?" His tone was shockingly casual; soft, less tense.

"Hum. I guess I am. That place didn't really have much to offer me. Coming with you might give me some sense of adventure. Hopefully you aren't this boring in good health," He jested, nudging James lightly. Thomas didn't get scowled at it pushed away, not even getting a cheeky comment.

"Why did you want to stay? You were defending A'vaarel weren't you?" James asked in returned, listening well to what Thomas said, but not commenting on it. You know, for someone who helped him, he deserved a nice conversation. James knew his attitude was irking, and he felt awful. Part if that was just him, but some of it was also due to his trust issues. Don't show your true colors, James. A voice rang that wasn't his own rang in his head. 

"I just...Its been my home for awhile. I don't really want to except the fact that it's corrupted with the rule of King George. After the previous kings sudden death everything went to Hell.  I was just hoping things would turn out okay.  I mean, I know it's a bad place to be, but not everyone there is bad. Some of those people, most of those people, deserve better. I want to help a few. That's why I helped you. Even now that I know who you are, I don't regret getting you out of there," Thomas said with a sigh, quickly shutting his mouth however. He hated to overstare, but here he was. Men weren't suppose to care. That was the women's jobs. Thomas never believed that though, but he had to stick by it sometimes. 

Apparently his words caught James off guard because he was silent, thinking. What a way to make me feel worse with how I treat you, James thought to himself with a scolding tone. "I.." The words still wouldn't form. What was he trying to say? Why couldn't he say it? "I'm sorry." There it was. It wasn't hard to say, yet the damn words just wouldn't come out correctly. Before Thomas could question it, which he was about to, James spoke up again above him. "I'm sorry for pressuring you to beleibe what I was saying. The truth is...is I do care. I wanted to warn you, because I didn't expect you to come with me. I just wanted you to know. You don't deserve what's going to happen to that kingdom. Not because you helped me, but because you aren't that bad of a guy. But you did help me. Even with how I'm acting," James said softly, almost too softly to hear completely.

Oh, but Thomas heard. This helpless tone was something he would have expected when he first spoke to him, but here it was now in the midst of a normal conversation. So James did feel bad? Thomas felt stupid for thinking he hadn't before. "You shouldn't feel that bad. Hell, we've both been annoying with each other. Oddly enough, I kind of like your personality. Not really all knowing in a confidence sort of way, but in a sarcastic sort of way. It's be nice to get to know you if you weren't so secretive with you emotions." That was Thomas' way of saying he would like to be friends instead of some guy following or leading James around. He understood his secretivity, but wished they could talk like, well this, more.

"I'm that way for a reason, you know," James remarked, sighing vaguely. He actualky enjoyed this conversation, though he knew that his coldness would be back.  It was habit when he didn't trust people fully. Frankly he hadn't trusted anyone fully since he was a kid. 

"Why is that?" Inquired Thomas in return, glancing down at James with a curious look brewing in his eyes. Everyone had their own unique reasons, some similar, some farfetched an unexpected.

"Just.. It's how I am I guess. Though alot of people have broken my trust. I wouldn't advise doing that."

"I never planned on it. Now, let's see...The camp shouldn't be too far. I made it near the kingdom for a reason. And-" He turned a few times, twisting around a few trees until they came to a clearing. "Here!"

The camp wasn't really much other than the clearly, and a tent held up by smoothed out poles of wood, the covering being made of a few old blankets that had been sewn together. There was a place to make a fire, along with a fallen down tree, and inside the tent was a few animal skins that sufficed for a mattress.

"I know it's not the best," Thomas said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

James shook his head, looking around the small clearing. It really was a wonder that nobody had found it, though Thomas was right when he said it wasn't really worth the taking. "It'll do," He stated, sitting down on the ground so that he could lean back against the log.

"You know you can sit in there," Thomas said, gesturing towards the tent, but sitting down next to James nonetheless without another word. 

"I just wanted something to lean back on."

"Oh. Well, uh. Do you want me to start a fire?"

"Don't bother. It's not getting dark. It's only the afternoon."

"Ah."

Silence.

"So," Thomas began. "Could I know a little about you? I know you don't trust me, but it wouldn't be good for either of us if we didn't trust each other at all. I don't know anything about you." James didn't trust Thomas and Thomas didn't trust James, that's what it boiled down to. They needed to communicate. Thomas was willing to do that, while James wasn't.

James sighed, a signal that he didn't want to argue Thomas guessed, because what followed was anything but. "What do you want to know?" He asked, crossing his arms and slouching down more, to the point he was practically laying on the ground and was able to use to log to support his head. His eyes fell closed. 

"What was your life like before I found you?"

"I was in a cell."

"Before that," Thomas clarified with a roll of his eyes. 

"Nothing interesting." James shrugged. Yes, he did want to cooperate, but he didn't know what to say. "Just the basic life of a thief."

"Thieves lives are very different depending on the person. Take me for instance," Thomas began. "I used to live in the poverty stricken part of A'vaarel. The part we went through to get here. Despite the hardships, my parents and I had a rather good life going for us until they died."

"How did they die?"

"Answer my question first."

James sighed, deeming it unnecessary to go against it. "I grew up away from here, far North."

"North as in where the war is the worst. Is that why you're here?"

"No," James remarked, shaking his head. "Slightly less North. You wouldn't know the place, not many people do. It doesn't have a name. I left there after the first war between these same two kingdom's."

"Why is that?" Thomas was genuinely curious. "You said not many people know about it, so what reason would there be to leave?"

"Some bad stuff happened that I would rather not talk about," James responded, opening his eyes just barely to glare at Jefferson. 

"Ah." Thomas decided not to push on the subject, aiming for a new one quickly. James obviously didn't want to talk about his past much. "Do you have any hobbies...?"

"I like to read, if that counts."

"Other than that."

"Hm. I like to whittle."

"Really?"

"Yes. I do it as a pass time when I can." That was part of the truth, he hid the rest to not seem vulnerable. He did it when he was stressed or bored as well, but left the stressed part out. Thomas could guess the boredom. James did alot of things when he was distressed. "What about you? Any pass times?"

"Does cooking count?" 

"Other than for survival." James received a nod. "Then yes," He said with a smile. 

Now that Thomas didn't have to focus on an argument, this was actually. He could focus on other aspects of conversation, and even learn a few things about James. If he opened up, Jefferson could probably read him like a book. There were other things he could notice, such as James' smile. Though small, it was beautiful. He wouldn't dare say it out loud to him, but sure as hell thought it. Madison was a cute, sarcastic guy, and Tgomas wouldn't mind getting to know him alot better. 

"Do you have anyone you miss?" Thomas asked suddenly. "Like a lover?"

The questioned set fire to James' cheeks, though his expression barely changed. "I-I, um, I...No I don't. Not a partner, nor any friends."

"Damn, that must suck. Did you have any friends before you were captured?" Thomas wished he could celebrate, but there would be no point. 

"None."

"Don't you ever get lonely?" Thomas didn't get a reply. James looked to the side, away from Jefferson. He didn't look like he would be giving an answer. "James?"

"Yes," the shorter male said softly. "I do and I did. That's why I wanted you company. You don't seem like someone who would backstab me. Even if you did.. I guess I wouldn't be surprised. It's happened so many times, I'm starting to think the world is testing if I have any trust left or not."

His voice was...sad? It was a overtone of sadness, yes. Thomas felt bad for the man, but still a smile crept onto his face. "Does that mean you trust me?"

"A little. You're the first person that's helped me in years without turning against me afterwards. Would you?" James replied, looking over at Thomas. His eyes were more empty, yet deep down Thomas knew there was a desperate look in them. James may have had trust issues, but he wanted to be able to trust someone, he wanted someone who wouldn't make him feel like a hollow shell. He needed someone to care, to really, genuinely care about him and his well-being. Whether it was a friend or partner. What he wouldn't admit was that he needed both. Someone who could be both a friend and loving. 

"....and that's why I wouldn't stab you in the back. James? Hello? You're zoning off again," Thomas waved a hand in front of his face, quickly abtaining his attention once again with that simple gesture.

"Huh? Oh, sorry... What did you say?" James asked sheepishly, offering a nervous smile to hopefully suffice for his lack of attention towards a matter he inquired about.

"I said I wouldn't betray you, because well, you seem like a great guy. You don't deserve people to betray you like that. You explained it like almost everyone you meet turns against you. I won't do that to you. You don't have to believe me, but try."

"I guess I just tend to meet assholes," James sighed out, earning a chuckle from Thomas. "I always give people a chance, but I'm starting to doubt that choice. Anyways. Different discussion. What are we going to do? We can't just aimlessly wander and we'll have to leave here at some point."

"Oh, right. Well maybe we could just try to find a good place to stay?" Thomas suggested. He went along with the change of topic, seeing no problem with it.

"The war would get to us eventually. If either side finds us, we'd be killed."

"Umm..Well, I... I don't know. We could stay here for a few days and find out along the way? Does that sound good to you?"

"Sounds good to me."

The time after that was followed with silence. It was a calm silence, not very tense like most others. Even James was less tense. Thomas stared up at the sky, while the shorter kept his eyes closed. Eventually James fell asleep later in the the day, a few hours after noon. Thomas was carefully, but had picked him up and laid him in the tent. He was very light, even for someone so short. He stayed asleep into the evening, to the point it was dark enough for Thomas to start a fire.

Jefferson sat next to James' sleeping form, looking down. He looked peaceful, unlike other nights at his previous house. Madison was curled up slightly, using his arm as a pillow. He looked kind of cute.

Wow, that's not creepy, Thomas thought to himself. It was true, however. James was attractive, and Thomas wasn't ashamed to say that; in his mind. He would be mortified if he said that out loud.

All attractions aside, he was glad to see him getting seemingly good sleep. James needed it. When he first found him there were dark circles under his eyes, and even now they hadn't let up much. Thomas knew Madison was exhausted beyond telling. He deserved the rest. 

Even thieves deserved someone to care.


	10. Chapter 10

Let's be honest and say Thomas didn't mean to do anything wrong. He couldn't really help himself and now the lanky man was pretty sure he was about to be a victim of murder. There was a dagger to his neck; his dagger He almost forgot James had his second dagger, deeming the blade to never be his again so he simply ignored it. That was awful thinking on his part, he would admit. 

You may be confused and wondering what happened? What did Thomas do that was so bad? Granted not alot would get James to snap and stab. Let's get this said as blatantly as possible.

Thomas kissed James.

Better yet he kissed him while he was asleep. However, James hadn't been in that deep of a slumber like Thomas assumed and he awoke almost the instant Jefferson pressed his lips against his own. The taller man knew it was a dumb decision, but barely even had a reason to have done something like that. That's what he told himself anyways. 

Thomas hadn't known James that long, but he was attracted to the other man; his personality, wit, physical attraction; as much as he knew it was wrong. As wrong as it was, homosexuals weren't as uncommon as you would think. Sure you could get tortured and die, but anything for love right? Well, Thomas was about to get killed by the man he was growing fond of.

Jefferson chuckled nervously, making no attempt to move the dagger in fear of getting his throat slit open quicker than he would initially like. Actually, he would much rather stay alive.  
"James...look...I can explain-"

"Why?" James questioned before he could get the full sentence out. There was a tad bit of red that tinted the shorter males cheeks, a strange look in his eyes that was hidden past the walls of actual murderous intent and full confusion.

"I, uh-u-um, I'm not sure?" Thomas replied back hesitantly, gulping carefully. He was trying hard to figure out what that distant look in the others eyes was. It was almost sad, he had to say. "You just looked..." He couldn't say vulnerable, because not only was that not the right word, James would surely kill him for being a complete creep about it. That wasn't something normal to say. "Peaceful?"

"That makes no difference," James hissed pointedly. "Don't fucking do that again or I won't hesitant to kill you." The way he said it was menacing, chilling even. Thomas was actually afraid.

"I don't give a fuck why you did it, just don't do it again or you're dead," He threatened finally and took the dagger away from Thomas' neck, pushing himself further away from the man before him.

What a way to trash any trust you got previously, Thomas thought to himself bitterly, swallowing thickly and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. How was I suppose to tell him that I did it because I knew I didn't have a chance while he was awake?  
"James-"

"Save it," James spat, standing up and walking out of the tent like space Why would he do something like that while I was asleep? In the back of his mind a voice spoke, telling him that he didn't dislike it as much as he let on, only how it was presented. No! Another said. You don't like him. You just met, he's a man, you don't trust him, you can't trust him. He'll betray you as a friend, as anything more. It can't be like him all over again. He sat down nearest the log as he did yesterday, hissing quietly at the feeling his bruised ribs gave him. Luckily they were healing. You would be near dead if he didn't save you. Give him more trust, James. Resting his face in his hands, he dropped the dagger to his side. James didn't need these intrusive thoughts. 

"James, look I'm sorry," Thomas said and bit the inside of his cheek as he moved to sit beside the other man. I'm an absolute idiot. How the hell is he suppose to trust me when I do something like that? It feels worse to not regret it. 

"Thomas, just shut the hell up, please," James snapped, instantly making him go quiet. "I don't care, okay? Whatever you did it for, it just- just doesn't..." He trailed off with a sigh. James was mad at Thomas, yes, he was enraged, but that didn't mean he hadn't felt other things either. 

"James-" Thomas tried again, though didn't get far.

"Quiet," He hissed. 

"James, I have the right to talk too."

Silence.

Thomas was hesitant, although he soon began to speak again. "I know that was wrong, but hey can you blame me?" He tried to joke a little, smiling unsurely as James looked up from his hands to himself with a blank expression. Of course his smart mouth had to say more. "I'd do it if you were awake if I wouldn't get stabbed." Stop right there, mister. You've said to much. Thomas stood up second after he said that and walked over to a different area, a tree nearby and leaned against it while still facing James. 

The diminutive man didn't respond at all, only stayed silent, his reddened cheeks hidden by his hands.  
"You were just messing with me?" His voice sounded surprisingly hurt, and more confusion than Thomas had ever heard. It made him feel worse.

"No!" Thomas shouted in an instant, but an uncanny expression took over. He chewed on his lip, unsure of what to say other than that. The look James gave him was enticing. There was no explanation he could give without sounding creepy and possibly getting his life threatened again. It could have been worse, he thought solemnly. James could have actually killed him. Honestly he was surprised he hadn't. Any act like that was scrutinized by the age they lived in. It was a hard time. "I don't know why I did it. I haven't been around anyone for awhile. I'm probably just desperate."

You know that moment you say something completely wrong even though it shouldn't be? That was what just happened. The hurt expression James wore didn't let up. Thomas wasn't even sure if it was hurt, or if he  was pissed. At the same time he told himself it wasn't impossible to be both.

Saying he was desperate was practically an insult. One he didn't mean to say at that. Things like this don't just let you spawn an excuse out of the blue.

James sighed, looking down again. "I see." It was meaningless. Thomas seemed like that type of person anyways, but at the same time he wanted to know more about him. He couldn't just be a cocky, arrogant person. It was likely, although James saw more. After years of being a thief sometimes you could learn to read people based on regular things such as how they act around different people. Deep down James knew Thomas was probably like that as well, both of them being thieves and all. It was ironic being on the countries list of top wanted people who should be killed, and meeting someone of the same. At least that meant safety for some part.

"Thomas, can I ask you something?" James asked in hopes to stray onto a new topic less awkward. He just needed to focus on something else,  but his mind kept going back to the one sided kiss. 

"Of course." Thomas answered instantly since he found he wanted a different subject to talk on as well. This surely made things awkward for him. He didn't get like this often, usually knowing exactly what to say. Around James that wasn't the case. The shorter man somehow always got him at a loss for words, whether that be he made him confused, or he simply had no idea what he could possibly reply with.

"Can you tell me about yourself?"

An expression of puzzlement cladded Thomas' face, and his eyebrows furrowed quizzically. "You want to know about me..? Like what?" He shot back, crossing his arms and resting the sole of his boot against the tree.

"Anything you want to tell me." Truthfully James wanted to get to know Thomas, which was obvious, for reasons of trust and more. He needed to trust someone. It had been years since he was able to sit down and have a nice conversation. He was in a cell for months and inside he was breaking down. Behind his exterior Thomas wasn't a bad guy. There wasn't any of this 'didn't seem like a bad guy'. James knew he wasn't, and that was saying alot on his behalf.

Selfishly he knew he was taking a liking to the taller man, but it was blasphemous to say that when he barely knew anytjing about him. There were deductions, but not enough. But if he were to learn more about him...

"Well you know where I used to live. This place here has been here forever, but I would fix it up every now and then when I was a kid. It was just me and my parents living together since I had no siblings. I started thievery because we didn't have enough money for food and it was harder to leave the kingdom then so hunting was difficult for us to. Slowly I started to just...do it for fun I guess. I got greedy, got thrown in a cell for a few weeks, then escaped."

"It was that easy to escape?"

"I was fifteen at the time, I'm thirty. I was quicker. Besides it wasn't one like what you stayed in. There wasn't any torture involved."

"You mean you were fast at some point," James retorted, a tiny smile filting his features.

"Haha, very funny. It's not like you're that fast either."

A chuckle was what he got in response from James.

"What?" Thomas questioned with a glare sneaking into his gaze.

"You really do make quick assumptions don't you?"

"That's suppose to mean what?"

"If I'm so slow how'd I get this dagger?" James remarked, but got silence in return. "Exactly."

"Hmph. Anyways. Life really isn't that exciting, I've been a few places, done a few things and people," Thomas replied with a smirk seeing the blatant face he received because of the last remark.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" James asked randomly. That got the smirk right off Thomas' face.

"I don't like to kill people especially when I don't have to. It's a necessity sometimes. I killed someone back when in my teenage years." Ah yes, angsty teen days.

"And those guards?"

"Hm?"

"When you found me you killed two guards. There was blood outside, so I'm guessing you hid the body. You're still wearing some of the armor you stole too."

"You pay attention to much." A sigh followed Thomas' words. "I couldn't sneak past them, okay?"

"They do awful things to people you know."

"Looking at you when I found you I could tell."

"Not just me. You shouldn't feel bad for killing them," James replied nonchalantly.

"Blunt ain't'cha?"

"It's how I get by in life." The smaller thief shrugged.

"You don't have to be so cold all the time ya know."

"Stay on topic."

Thomas rolled his eyes, but continued. "There's not much to tell."

"What happened to your family?" James asked pointedly. "If you don't mind me asking." He knew that stuff could be a sensitive topic if-

"They died."

"Oh."

"We were out in this area one morning playing a game, and when I went to find them I found them decapitated," Thomas said quietly, in almost a whisper. The atmosphere thickened hastily.

James' guarded expression softened into one more of empathy. "I'm sorry. I should have asked."

"No, no. It's okay," Jefferson reassured. 

"I know what that's like. I really shouldn't have said anything."

"Oh?" Thomas said with a tilt of his head. The reply caught his curiosity, realing it in from that dsrk memory of his like a fish from the center of a lake.

"My family was killed too," James confirmed, looking to his hands rather than Thomas. "I was there though so I saw everything. It was some of the kingsmen from Scarthal."

Thomas' heart dropped. Scarthal was a kingdom to the west that was an ally to A'vaarel in the first war. It was a violent and corrupt place, more so than anywhere he had known. Thomas had never been there, but he had seen people from there and what they did to people. They were savages, people who lived in the mountains. They constantly tried to start wars with other kingdoms. He couldn't imagine what they did to James' family. Still, he couldn't help but ask. "What did they do?"

James visibly tensed, shaking his head slowly. He'd rather not say to say the least on that subject. He looked up at Thomas with a sad smile, one that made the taller man's heart pang in two ways. "That's not a nice subject. Why don't we talk about something else?"

Thomas, taking pity on him decided not to push, and hummed in thought. "Could you tell me more about yourself?" He asked, deciding to bounce back the question from earlier.

"I hate everyone and have bad trust issues. The end."

Thomas chuckled and shook his head. "Come on smartass. I answered so you have to answer."

"It's not a nice subject either for some part."

"You're not a nice person," Thomas retorted sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. 

"Ouch, Tom. That really hurt." 

"Oh, come on! Stop avoiding the question, please!

"I didn't take you for type to beg."

"With a comment like that are you sure you didn't enjoy that kiss earlier?"

"Are you sure you want to keep your tongue?"

"Kinky."

"Fuck you."

"If you ask nicely, maybe."

The two glared at each other for a moment before slowly falling into a fit of soft laughter. Surprisingly neither of them were that embarrassed by what they said, unlike that previous time. Well, Thomas wasn't. James' cheeks were dusted red and his face felt like fire, but neither said anything about it.

"Dear Lord, fine! I'll answer if you be quiet!" James finally said after some time of quiet laughs.

"See I always get what I want."

"Thomas," James warned, earning another laugh from the other man despite the voice being surprisingly intimidatingly serious for someone so short.

"Okay, okay! I'm listening!"

"You want a life story basically?" James questioned, earning a nod.

"So, I was born-"

"James, oh my god, that's not what so meant and you know it."

James chuckled and restarted. "Fine. I had eleven siblings. The only one I liked was Elizabeth. Two died when they were babies from sickness and the rest when everyone else did. After their deaths so went away." It was hard to explain that so casually, but he managed to make it sound like no big deal he lost everyone he trusted and loved and then went off somewhere else and never returned except once or twice.

Thomas was quiet, knowing not to comment snarkily on subjects like that, especially with James. He wouldn't admit it but he was kind of scared of the shorter thief. He was shockingly intimidating, and Thomas was afraid that James knew he was fearful a tad bit.

"I never found a place to stay put. I became a thief for a similar reason to you. We didn't have enough money for food, and at the time I didn't know how to hunt. Luckily I do now. I never got caught surprisingly. Anyways after my record slowly started to go up for thievery and murder no one could be trusted. I don't kill people for the hell of it, since that's what most people think. I have killed alot of people though and I won't hesitate if it's something I have to do. Every time I think I can trust someone they betray me; try to kill me, turn me in, use me. It's all been tried," James explained, slouched back against the log he rested against. You can see why he has trust issues. People always broke his trust so he didn't know what to do anymore. "Everything just slowly breaks you down eventually. Being in a cell for so long, even when stuff like that has happened before, it starts to mess with you, make you go crazy. That's what They're aiming for I guess. They want to break down criminals. Most people in there haven't even done anything. There was a man in the cell next to mine. You saw him right? The rotting corpse? He was a nice guy that tried stealing food for his sick wife. He told me and you could see it in his eyes he wasn't lying. They didn't kill him though. He killed himself and they weren't there to stop him. At some point I thought that was the right way to go. It was better than staying there and being tortured."

James lifted up his shirt slightly, revealing a nasty scar that looked like a jagged stab wound. "They found me before I died. Guess that doesn't always work. After that they never really gave me anything to eat off of or with. You see they don't want you to die. They want you to suffer. I've been in a cell many times, but this last one really did something."

"James..I-" Thomas began to sympathize with him, but was cut off.

"You know I actually used to have someone I trusted. His name was Philip Freneau. He wasn't a thief at all, never did anything if the sort. He was a poet and when I needed help he was there. Some people found out and he was killed. I had a partner too at one point. They literally stabbed me in the back." James looked over the awful look on Thomas' face and he chuckled sadly, shaking his head. "I told you it wasn't nice."

Thomas shook his head in turn, moving his body away from the tree to take a spot next to James. He hesitated but after seeing no cringe away he sat down and rested a hand on the other man's shoulder. In the back of his mind he was cheering he could get so close after that mornings shenanigan he pulled.

"It's okay now," He said softly, going to say more, but his words got caught up.

"He said that too."

You see this confused Thomas, though he refrained from commenting on it. Was 'he' that Philip man he spoke of? The partner? That put hope in Thomas as wrong as it was. If his partner was a male that meant he might have a chance right?

"I'm not going to betray you. I said that before. You don't deserve that after what I've heard. Nothing good would come from me breaking your trust like that. I've only known you for a few weeks, but you aren't that bad of a guy, James. You're just hiding who you are. I can tell how anxious and nervous you are with how you fidget with things. I would never do that to my own friend."

As Thomas spoke James noticed how he was indeed fidgeting his whole way through talking and even now. He stopped in an instant. Should I say something to get off of this topic? I can't be vulnerable...I need someone to trust. I need someone. Thomas is my best bet.

"Thank you, Thomas. Really, thank you.."

"It's not a problem."

There was silence to follow those words and in midst the quiet Thomas carefully put one arm around the shorter man's shoulders in hopes of comfort. Neither said anything after that for awhile, nor did anything. Thomas wouldn't say anything, but noticed the way James leaned into the partial embrace.

This is how their day went really, quiet and decent conversation. Who knew a little talking could bring people together so much?

He's the one.


	11. Chapter 11

Three weeks had passed, and nothing unusual happened, surprising both men. There was almost always someone checking around the kingdom, but it was different as of now. James thought it could be the war that was causing this. The king needed more men to fight rather than to scan the surroundings. It was an idea, not a fact.

What was most surprising was how well the two had been getting along, almost as if they were old friends catching up. Most of their conversations were just more explaination; a way to better know each other. The oddest thing was James found himself to trust Thomas more than he had anyone in quite some time. The same could be said with the lankier man. Trust was such a hard thing to come by in times like this, and yet here they were.

James was finicky with the other man being near him when he slept, not over to whole fact Thomas kissed him. You don't kiss people in their sleep. That's fucked up.

Thomas knew it was wrong, but something about the other thief just drawed him too him. He was attractive, and past the bitterness he had a nice personality. He seemed perfect in his eyes. Even if he wanted to hide his feelings he already messed that up. Kissing James was a dead give away. The man didn't outright hate him though, so he took it as hope. James might also be planning his murder.

As of now it was night time and the two were sitting by a fire that Thomas started. James had been healing extremely well these past few weeks, but still complained about his ribs paining him.

The bright, amber light reflected off of the dark orbs that were James' eyes. His expression was calm, content, maybe the most Thomas had ever seen him look. He looked to be in awe of the flickering light, as still as the air around them. 

"It's amazing, isn't it?" James said without looking a the taller, a smile irking his lips just barely.

"What is?" Thomas replied. Him, His mind tried to answer for him. 

"The fire," James stated. "It's calm, but fierce. A single spark can make an entire wildfire, and yet people trust it so much to rely on it for everything? It's whimsical and dangerous, but beautiful."

"It kind of reminds me of you," Thomas replied, nodding in agreement to what was said with vast interest.

"How so?"

"Like you said; dangerous, calm, and you don't know what to expect. Yet I still trust you," Jefferson explained. And I want to be close to you, but I'm afraid of getting hurt.

"Oh."

"Is that a bad thing to you?"

"No. I think you remind me of water. It's less destructive, more approachable, but can be dangerous in certain moments." 

"I like that." And you, Thomas groused to himself.

"You know I'm actually glad we met. It's nice to have a friend," James said softly. He had yet to look at Thomas, but his eyes showed sincerity.

"So you do consider me a friend?"

"Of course. It's been a long time since I could call someone that."

"Hah, me too."

There was silence for a good ten minutes. The only sound was the crackling of fire, the sound of tree frogs and crickets, and an occasional gust if wind. Silence wasn't Thomas' forte, so he spoke up again.

"You should probably clean up a bit. You've had dirt all over you for the past few weeks. I can't imagine that's enjoyable. There's a creek not to far from here-"

"I'm used to it, don't worry about it. Besides it's dark." In reality James didn't really fancy ring this dirty for so long, but he's gotten far to used to it throughout life. Many people had.

"I meant tomorrow. It'll help keep diseases away. What with people coming and going throughout everywhere these days illness is more common. After everything I'd hate to see you suffer with a nameless sickness," Thomas persuaded, nudging the others arm. He's been able to do things like that more and more. So far James only cared about having space when he slept. Thomas didn't ever tell him that he was to one that got closer to himself every once and awhile. 

James sighed, "Fine," and finally gave in. "Can we just sleep now? It's late."

"Says the one that stays up all night."

"Shut up."

Morning came agonizingly slow for James, whom was still awake, and very quickly for Thomas who was trying to comfort the distressed man before him. All through the time Thomas had met James he found one thing to be common for the other; nightmares. James never explained them too much, but he had deducted the meaning behind most of them.

It was as if fears came to life and his past haunted him greatly. The deaths of his family, all the bad in life came rushing back. James was a person often lost in thought, and Thomas couldn't help but wonder if that was what really caused these terrors in his mind. 

James didn't ever tell Jefferson that they included him too.

A whimper escaped the shorter man's lips, and he curled up shockingly closer to Thomas. The awakened man pulled the other closer, concern in his cocoa pigmented eyes. "James. James, hey, wake up. It's just a dream. It's okay...," He soothed, but nothing seemed to work. Countless minutes kept passing with no improvement. Remincse of tears were on James' face. It was bad to wake people up from a nightmare, but Thomas wasn't going to let him suffer like this.

Wait a minute.

He knew the perfect way to wake him up. Let's just hope he didn't get murdered for it.

Thomas hesitated, but pressed his lips to the others, waiting with his eyes shut tightly. In seconds he was pushed away with a confused and angry looking James.

"Before you say anything, let me expla-!" Thomas began, but was interrupted.

"What the fuck?!"

"Let me explain!"

"I told you not to kiss me again or-"

"I know, I know! You wouldn't wake up and it was the first thing that came to mind! I'm sorry!" Thomas backed away, half expecting to be slapped, half expected to be stabbed. 

That wasn't what happened at all though. James' shoulders fell, and his face cleared up to only a slightly annoyed one. He sighed and wiped his eyes. "Fine, thanks."

Wait did Thomas not almost get killed? That was so much easier than the first time.. Maybe..

"Back the fuck off and don't even think about it," James warned when Thomas neared again. 

"Ah, sorry about that."

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Positively."

"Are you absolutely s-"

"Thomas just be quiet."

"Right."

James sighed yet again, standing up. His limp had gone away and his wrists were doing much better. By now it was just some unseen bruises on his ribs that he had to be careful of. "Can we just go to that creek now?"

"Ooh, so I can see you-"

"If you even think about finishing that sentence I will cut out your tongue."

"Oops?"

"Can we just go?"

Thomas smiled and stood up, placing his hands in his back and popping it. "You just woke up, are you sure you don't want to wait a bit so you can wake up?"

"I'm always tired, waiting won't help me in anyway."

"Alright then. Let's go I guess."


	12. Chapter 12

The trip to the pond didn't take very long. Thomas was right when he said it wasn't far. At the same time there was a different challenge to face. Or two to be exact. James' clothes needed cleaning just as much as him, and he was not going to be able to wear them; the same went for Thomas. The shorter hadn't thought this far ahead in time. The same was not to be said for the taller man. He was secretly hoping Madison wouldn't back out now because of the circumstances.

The second problem was simply where they were. It was the cleanest water near them, but also stirred up something in Thomas. 

James knew he could just wear his clothes anyway, but that was much more difficult. He could always keep his briefs on as well. 

"Well?" Thomas persisted with a hopefully unreadable smirk. The clear, but not entirely bad, tension on the smaller theif's face was priceless. He was obviously frustrated with his situation and choices. 

"Can you just turn around or something?" However, James would not openly advise to these turmoils.

"I've gotta get cleaned up too you know," Thomas countered, crossing his arms and tapping the shore water with his boot.

James huffed, glaring at the other man. "Can't we just take turns or something? Or you could just face the other way."

"We aren't children, and there is a whole pond. You need to learn to share, Jemmy."

"You say we aren't children and yet you go and say something immature like that. Just keep your eye's to yourself," James said, kicking off the boots he wore near the shoreline.

"Ouch, rude. Most of your body will be under water so it isn't like I can see anything," Thomas retorted with a roll of his eyes. That was sadly true; the water wasn't very clear. It was to be expected for a body of water in the middle of the forest. Still, the most he had seen of the others body was when he had to patch him up. That was very limited, and by now Thomas was trying to make his attraction very prominent to the other.

He was most likely succeeding with the comments and the kiss. James wasn't completely disgusted by it and he hadn't tried to kill him for it. Sure there had been threats, but no attempts. Thomas was far too hopeful. It was hard to read James. At the same time it was easy since these past few weeks they have gotten to know each other. The only person they have been around is each other. Couldn't James see he liked him?

"Hey, smartass. Are you getting in the water or what?" James asked, snapping Thomas back to reality. The tiny criminal was aready far in the water; all the way to his shoulder's to be exact. His clothes were in hand and there was a bored expression on his face.

"Right, of course!" Thomas exclaimed, wasting no time to take only his shirt off; the bit of armor he had was left at their small camp since he was confident no one would find it.

James was in fact not bored, and not okay. Thomas was hot, there was no denying that now. Instead of gawking he turned away red in the face. He didn't need Jefferson of all people to see his blush like that. Then again he didn't need to fancy someone like that pompeous asshole with a heart of gold either, but here he was being infatuated with that very man.

The water rippled and the sound of sloshing water made its way to his ears informing James that Thomas finally got in the water. He himself had decided to keep his briefs on. They weren't dirty since they were basically new. He did not, however, want to turn around to see if Jefferson did the same. He wasn't aware of how far that tree of a person made it into the pond and he wasn't about to find out. James stayed quiet and worked on getting the dirt, blood, and grit off of himself for good. 

Thomas didn't do anything to break the silence, but for a moment keep his eyes on James' back. On what little bit of skin showed above the water was the reminsce of scars. It was so strange that he went through all of that and the only clear signs it effected him were the scars and nightmares. Other than that James was very reclusive and blunt about it. It was almost like he was far too casual about the trauma's when he was awake. James seemed to keep to his thoughts more often than not. Thomas wondered just what went on in that head of his.

On another note - he may have been flirtatious, but he really hoped James stayed turned away. See he wasn't wearing anything at all. The murky water did help greatly thankfully. Thomas put a fine line between flirting and straight up embarassing. 

Today was so much quieter than he was used to. When they were around it wasn't like this. There was conversation and everything didn't seem hollowed out. Thomas wasn't taking the initiative to make a conversation just yet either. As much as he loved this place and all it's beauty, he hated it as well; brought up too many memories. 

James had fairly quicky washed himself off as best he could, and now worked on getting the clothes he had with him as clean as he could. The stains were stubborn and he just about threw the cloth at the fluid surface of the lake. Huffing he knew he wouldn't do that because they would end up sinking with the about of water soaked in them and then he would have nothing to wear because what he had was at the bottom of the lake.

Humming sounded from behind him and he turned to tell Thomas to snap his trap shut, but stopped short with a hitch of his breath. The slender, mischevious persona was in much less of the water. His back was facing him but everything showed just above his buttocks, water murkily hiding anything else deviously.

James hadn't caught himself staring until it was too late and Thomas was turning around. The humming stopped and their eyes locked in an effortless link, scarlet covering both of their faces. Just as Thomas started to smirk - having no shame since nothing personal was showing - James sputtered and covered his face wildly with his hands, turning around in lightning speed as if he just committed the worst sin possible.

"Gah- I- S-sorry. I didn't know if you were turned around or..or what. I just- Sorry, sorry, I'll face this way until you're done."

Thomas chuckled and shook his head, taking the briefs and pants he had already cleaned and slipping them on clumsily in the water. The more lithe man had yet to turn around or remove his arms away from his face, stiff as a board. 

"I have clothes on now," He muttered.

James shook his head, tensing up more bit letting his hands fall to his side's and into the water. "Oddly enough I highly doubt that."

"Well then I guess you'll die there if you never turn around." Thomas left it at that and shuffled closer in the water, nearer to James' back.

"Don't touch me," The smaller man warned once the ripples in the water fell past him and the presence of Jefferson was accurately depicted. Yet the sound was meek. 

"What, afraid I'll drown you?"

"Thomas-"

"Oh, come on!" Thomas exclaimed,  whipping around in front of James and grabbing an arm to drag him to the cavernous depths of the pond.

There was resistance on the other half, but frankly it's a little hard to get away from someone when you're practically floating in nothing and your feet have since stopped reaching the muddy floor.

"Let go!"

"I don't see why I should!" Thomas laughed out, letting go of the other mans arm just to grab it again, further up, and drag him closer to himself. It may have brought him closer, but also made the possibility of getting socked in the jaw skyrocket.  
But that wasn't what happened.

James didn't say anything, but looked rather confused as Thomas gazed at him with that overconfident smirk of his that made him look equally cocky and handsome. 

What furthered the bewildered nature of this? Thomas didn't say anything either; he didn't make a snarky comment. Not even when he let go of the shorter person's arm and said person didn't move away,  instead wading in the water.

James ogled to the side timidly, finally moving a partial ways back. The blush on his face was apparent no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

"I didn't drown you," Jefferson stated matter-of-factly, a hint of teasing lacing its way into his voice, along with a somehow gentler tone.

And James smiled. He chuckled and shook his head at the retortment. If not for the widening grin on the others face, he would have commented back with something of his own. Instead it was something else. "Why're you smiling like that?" He asked, ignoring his own, smaller smile that crossed his face.

"Because you're smiling," He replied without missing a beat.

James wasn't entirely sure how to take that information. He was never good with compliments - if that's what that was. In fact he didn't know if Thomas was teasing him or actually said them sincerely. After all, he did say things like that a lot. There was something about his eyes that made it hard to tell. Whether it was because they were breathtakingly beautiful or because his smile reach his eyes with undeniable sincerity that James, for some reason, wanted to avoid.

He wanted to avoid it because he was afraid. Afraid he was interpreting everything all wrong.

"What? Did I render you speechless?" Thomas said it in such a smooth way that James had to resist the urge to simply agree. He managed to make him at a loss for words a lot.

Instead he scoffed, "Of course not." There was no bitterness to his words like when they first met. He was still smiling that tiny smile Thomas wished he could engrave into his memory forever, and there was accepting amusement in his voice.

"Afraid to say something back?" Thomas pushed differently, wading just a tad closer.

James rolled his eyes to hide the fact his answer was truly yes. He was afraid to say something back because he didn't want to mess up.

You see James had realized a lot in these weeks with Thomas. He realized something in weeks that Thomas realized in days. He loved him. The smaller man had never been the best at expressing his emotions, much less affection. At this point Thomas probably thought he hated him, and rightfully so. James had threatened him enough to make him a little fearful. The truth was he meant the threats the first time or two (barely) but now he did it because he simply didn't know any better.

James was aware that Thomas was still waiting for an answer, still smiling that same way he always does. The way that showed in his eyes that he was truly happy. But he really didn't know what to say. He wanted to say something snarky or sarcastic and at the same time he wished he could just blurt out what he had been hiding this whole time.

"I'm getting out of the water," James announced. It was a mistake, truly. He could have said something else, snipped back with a comment of his own.

Thomas' smile faltered and he shrugged. "Suit yourself."

James received that as his que to go and began to turn, swimming back to the shore. Trying to anyway. Before he could go far he heard a splash behind him. When he turned around Thomas was gone, and before he could register anything he felt a tug on his leg. Just a second before being dragged under the surface of the water he managed to take a breath.

He would have panicked, would have yelled at Thomas when they both came back above the water, but he couldn't. Thomas was laughed softly to himself, clearly amused with his shenanigans.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where you going somewhere?" The tone the taller thief used was mocking but otherwise in good humor. James glaring at him only made his grin widen.

"Come on, I just want to get back to shore," James tried to use an annoyed tone. Key word: tried.

"Well Jemmy James I don't see anyone stopping you." The tone was almost daring him to try and leave again as Jefferson edged closer and James edged backwards.

Neither of them could see underwater. It was clean, but murky, and the dirt would sting their eyes. James thought he could take his chances with that and swim back to shore.

He was proved very wrong, because once he got underwater Thomas darted to get him, wrapping his arms around the shorter mans shoulders and holding him tightly once he got their heads above water.

"Thomas, let me go!" James laughed out with a slight wheeze when Thomas squeezed his arms around him too tight. He really wanted to ignore that the both of them were only in their briefs. He really did.

"No!" Thomas shouted back, adjusting his grip as James tried to shimmy his way out of his arms.

The tall male really was using this as a distraction from his own thoughts. Maybe if he really did something he could keep his might off of everything. Off of his parents. Besides he got to see James smile, to see him happy.

"Thomas!" The shout was louder, but remained in it's bemused tone. That didn't stop Jefferson from caving and letting go of James anyway. "Thank you," James announced with a soft laugh and shake of his head.

Thomas could only smile, taking one of  the smaller mans arms and dragging him closer to the shore. He was probably being annoying enough for the day so getting out of the water was probably best. No matter how happy James was it was painfully nostalgic to be here. Apparently the short thief noticed that something was off despite Thomas' hiding.

"Is everything alright, Tom?" James had started to call Thomas that more often after they became more friendly towards each other. He didnt even try to yank his hand back. Occasionally he still would; his coldness would take over. Right now though, he just let himself be lead through the murky depths of the pond.

"Yeah," Thomas answered vaguely, "Just tired."

James didn't seem convinced and as soon as his feet were able to touch the bottom he stopped them. "I'm the tired one, you're the outgoing one. Thomas... just tell me what's wrong? You were fine just a minute ago."

Shaking his head the tall man exhaled a deep breath, "Nothing's wrong." He attempted to pull them further. James detested.

"Stop. We aren't leaving until you tell me what's wrong." The tone was stern, leaving no room for arguement.

What had gotten Thomas, of all people, to act so off all of the sudden?


	13. Chapter 13

"My parent's used to take me here a lot. This exact lake. At least once a week," Thomas gave in after much convincing from James. They had gone as far to at least put most of their thankfully still dry clothes back on before James managed to get an answer out of him. Right now they sat with their feet in the water; well, James had most of his legs sprawled out in the pond. It was not at all hot today, but the water was soothing to his aching muscles.

He nodded in silence to the taller man, acknowledging him to speak more. James had no idea what could have made Thomas act so off in the blink of an eye. Clearly it had to do with his parents, of course, but what? Thomas had said his parents died. Was it here? He could feel dread overflowing in his senses for the explanation to come.

“I just.. dammit, I don't know. I always remembered being happiest when I was with them here. Even if we didn't so much as touch the water. All of my greatest memories seem to reside here, and now that they're gone? It's hard to be here,” Thomas spoke on, sighing and rubbing a hand down his face at how ridiculous he sounded. When he glanced back up at James he expected the same cold look he usually had, or maybe the analytical one he sometimes adorned. What he saw was analytical, but it was judgement free to his knowledge. Sympathetic dare he say. He supposed James did seem like the sympathetic type once you got to his personalities core.

“Why did you want to come here then?” James asked, perplexed, with a marginal tilt of his head.

Thomas hated that he expected that question. He closed his eyes and let his head fall downward to where his chin almost rested against his chest. “Fuck, I don't know. I guess I just expect the same happiness to be here.” As if the pond was what made him happy and not his parents.

“We didn't have to come here. I don't..I don't want you to be going through such bad turmoil,” James mentioned, hesitating in his words as if it just wasn't right. He was never the best with being supportive, especially in the emotional category. He was emotionally unstable he would say, so it was a bad mix. However, he felt like he needed to help resolve these issues within Thomas. It was the least he could do, right?

“It's not your fault. I was just to hopeful I guess. Maybe I thought having you here with me would me a distraction from the bad and more of a focusing point on the good.”

“I'm sorry,” James said; it wasn't in a way that said he was sorry like it was his fault, but that he was sorry for the problem itself.

“Thanks.” Thomas didn't know what else to say. Perhaps Jamea expected a long explanation as to why he was in such a gross mood, but this was all he had. It was so simple, and so, so stupid.

“You know it's still pretty nice here. Maybe not memory wise for you, but it's nice,” James tried. He didn't know why he kept the conversation going. It was practically done and he had said they could leave after Thomas explained.

“Yeah, I suppose..”

“It's nice because you're here.” James wanted to crawl back in the water and drown himself for that. Not exactly because of what he said, though that was definitely part of it, but because he meant it. Normally he didn't fall into trust so easily like this, and yet, Thomas was just so likeable. Sure he was kind of egotistical at times, but he practically had a heart of gold. He would be damned if he admitted that.

“Oh?”

The simple reaction from Thomas was enough to light fire to James face, and the way he smiled pulled at his heartstrings in a way he felt once before but dearly wanted to ignore it. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. Not so soon. They had only known each other for a few weeks. Was that long enough?

“Are you implying you came here with me, because of me?” Thomas questioned, smirking in just the slightest. He willed himself not to blush as well after seeing the very faint color on James' cheeks. He was lucky enough not to get stabbed the first two times. Now was not a good time.

His emotions were a fucking mess. Both of them could say that.

Thomas went from happy to sad to a mixture and had no idea what to think. The whole time he was either stuck in his mind thinking about this stupid place, or the fact that James was literally the hottest person he had ever seen.

“Other than the fact I was covered in muck and actually wanted to be somewhat clean, y..yes?” James went into his sentence with confidence on how he would end it, but as soon as he got to what he really wanted to say that facade faded and vanished from the face of earth. Clearly Thomas was surprised to by the way his eyes widened and he stayed mute for a few seconds as his smile vanished.

So he hadn't been expecting that. That was okay. God dammit he wanted his emotions to pick a side. Sad little bitch, or love struck bitch. The latter was starting to take over by the looks of it, as he scooted a tad bit closer to the shorter man. And for once said man didn't scoot away.

“And you were being caring not to long ago. With my feelings?” Thomas teased further. This was a good way to distract himself from his sad feelings. Was it though? Damn he didn't know.

“I'm cold, not an insensitive asshole, Thomas.”

“So you are lightening up to me!”

“Not if you keep this up. We should probably head back,” James said, beginning to stand up. He didn't like where this was going. That was a horrible lie. He was just worried about where this was going. He must have been getting sick. He wasn't thinking straight- Well, shit, that was one way to put it.

Before James could stand up Thomas grabbed his arm, keeping him in place and smiling up at him. “I don't think you want to leave half as bad as you're saying.” The way he said it should have been another tease, another joke, but it sounded almost..soft? As if he was simply hoping he was right this time.

James swallowed thickly, freezing in place. “W-we can leave now.” All he wanted to do was comfort Thomas just a little. If he was sad almost all traces were gone now, except that slightly gloomy look he had when he looked away and at the water for a few seconds as if he was reliving the moment. Then he was back to looking at him and there was a light in his eyes. One James didn't like. Another lie.

“Wait,” Thomas simply said. This time he sounded like he genuinely had something good to say, like the faint conversation about his troubles here. “I need to tell you something. You might know. You're perceptive.”

James wasn't sure what it was in him that sat down, but he surely wasn't going to regret it.


	14. Chapter 14

Let's be honest and say Thomas didn't mean to do anything wrong. He couldn't really help himself and now the lanky man was pretty sure he was about to be a victim of murder.

*record scratch*

You may be confused and wondering why this seems familiar. Well that's because it is. The difference is, well, you'll have to find out yourself. 

Thomas kissed James.

Better yet - get this - he wasn't getting an angry outburst in return! No, James was kissing him back. He really didn't expect that one. No, not one bit. 

It wasn't as abrupt as every other time, if you don't count the fact James was asleep. Thomas would greatly ignore that for the rest of his life if he could. No, this time he actually admitted he had fallen for him; outloud and with sincerity. He simply couldn't stand it anymore. His feelings seemed like they were so evident, and yet, James didn't see it. Then again, Thomas had always been a tad flamboyant and flirty. James had known him for a few weeks and already figured that out. Of course, he could pass everything by as coincidence. Wouldn't you?

Oh, boy. How that was a lie. James simply hadn't trusted Thomas enough. Anyone he has ever trusted has always betrayed him. Right now, though? He couldn't think of anything else other that the soft lips against his. As absolutely weird as it was for Thomas to kiss him when he was asleep, when he woke up, and he would never admit this now, the feeling was astounding.

Thomas slowly lifted a hand to rest against James’ cheek, fearing opening his eyes as if the moment really wasn't real. God, if it was his eyes closed that made this feel so real he would never open them again. 

Alas, good things have to end, and they both pulled away almost simultaneously. James stared into Thomas’ eyes with a look of shock, and the latter looked back equally, as if they were both wondering if that had really just happened.

“I'm so sorry, James. I-” Thomas stammered, waving his hands as he tried to piece together the right words. Why was he rambling? James kissed back. That was good! That was...good?

“Why are you sorry?” James asked in a meek voice, albeit clearly not getting behind the reasoning of the other man's worry. Even he, who worried for absolutely everything, didn't quite understand. Hell, be barely understood what just happened. 

“You- you... You kissed back?” Thomas paused, not answering the question directly. He opened his mouth, snapping it shut in frustration as he couldn't get his feelings out correctly again right now. James hadn't responded when he said he liked him. No ‘I like you too, Thomas’. Nothing. Yet he went ahead and kissed him anyway. Jesus, he was an asshole, but he should have learned his lesson from the first two times James told him not to kiss him ever again.

“Y..yes?” James hesitated. “Should.. I be sorry?” He asked unsurely.

“No!” Thomas all but shouted, startling James a little, but not enough to jump. “No. I'm just surprised is all.”

“If it's any consultation, you're actually a really good kisser.” James replied with a lopsided smile in an attempt to cast away the awkward atmosphere.

“So you do like me?” Thomas asked quickly, too hopefully, and far too childishly.

James paused a moment to look over Thomas, pondering over everything he could and should say. He was such a mess right now he didn't even know how he felt. It was no lie these past few weeks had made him fall for Thomas, but the question was: should he? Should he really trust him? Everyone he had ever trusted had always stabbed him in the back, both metaphorically and in reality. Many of them had been regular day people. The average person that seemed like that had done no real wrong in life. Jefferson looked so happy right now and eager for an answer, though. After the bittersweet memories he had mentioned James wasn't sure he had enough guts to let him down. An absolute lie, that was. He was used to being blunt with people. If he hesitated too long then Thomas would think he hated him-

“Yes,” James blurted finally after all of his thoughts became a storm he couldn't handle. Faintly, he wondered if he should regret answering like that. That thought washed away as the others face lit up and he jolted forward to hug James, crushing his arms so tightly against his sides he was sure he would break something if they stayed like this for long.

Neither of them said anything in that moment, but both men could feel the biggest smiles creeping into their faces. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

The first thing Thomas asked when he pulled away was, “You're sure? You mean it? You aren't mad at me for this at all? I mean you threatened to-”

“Thomas, Thomas-” James laughed before he could continue, quickly regaining composure, “Everything you said; I feel the same way. I'm simply..unsure?”

“Unsure? Unsure why? You don't like me back unsure?”

“No,” He paused to chuckle once again - a heavenly sound to Thomas honestly - and rested his hand on the other’s shoulder. “You know why,” He added a little more seriously.

“Oh.” Thomas frowned. “Trust issues?”

James nodded.

“I can help with that. You know you can trust me, at least a little. You kissed me back after all. No idiot with complete trust issues would do that.”

“So I'm an idiot now?” James teased.

“My idiot?”

“Your idiot.” 

Both of them couldn't help but smile.


	15. Chapter 15

After the events at the pond both of them hadn't said much after those few last exchanged words. Naturally, neither of them knew what to think really. Now that it was officially known that they had mutual feelings towards each other you would think it made things easier. It really didn't.

Thomas didn't want to come on to strongly, and was shockingly too nervous to ask if they were actually something now. Same sex relationships were never praised and many were actually brutally killed for it. That may have been the last thing on his mind considering he was a rather well wanted thief. The one thing he was thankful for was that there seemed to be no awkward tension between them.

James looked a little lost in thought, staring at the ground on their way back to the small camp and looking at the area the fire once roared to life once they did arrive. They had mutual thoughts on this subject. It was a pretty touching thing, and both men knew that. The shorter thief's problem with trust was such a large factor. He had just gotten out of a cell after months of torture and here he was beginning to trust Thomas with what looked like to him not enough thought

“James?” Thomas asked softly, sitting down on the log that the other had chose to accompany. 

James hummed to show he was listening.

“I know you said the, um, feelings were returned, but.. Did you regret the kiss? I won't try it again after today,” He went on, staring forward to where James’ eyes were focused; on nothing in particular. Thomas did feel a little bad about kissing him in his sleep. Everything in him had told him it was a horrible idea and yet he went and did it a second time, and now a third (although the last one ended a little better than the previous two).

The shorter shook his head and let it fall just after, sighing. “I didn't. I don't regret it. I need time to think,” He responded, tapping his fingers down against the wood as if that was suppose to help with the matter at hand.

“We've got the rest of the day to talk about it, or do you want me to leave you alone?”

“I'd like to be alone.”

“Alright, but just so you know for sure. I'm not messing with you. I meant what I said, and I meant that kiss.” With that the taller walked a little ways away to the makeshift tent area. There wasn't much he could do. Thomas liked to talk, but if James needed to think he would give him the time. After all he had already went through so much. A little time to think was nothing bad. He wasn't entirely sure what James had to think about; he genuinely had a pretty happy look after they kissed. Were his issues with trust really dragging him down such a great amount?

James really didn't know what to tell Thomas. He could read emotions rather well and he could tell Thomas was worried. In the back if his mind he wondered if the other could see his emotions so well. Throughout the weeks of knowing each other he had unknowingly and willingly given Information to the second thief. He needed someone to care again. Thomas fit that role well if he thought about it. As self absorbed as he acted, he was in very many accounts selfless. No one had struck James the way he did. He wasn't sure anyone ever would until now.

Saying they were at least friends was a lot. James was never good with making friends. He avoided people in every instance, not only because of being so wanted, but because he was afraid of opening up to them. He always had been; since he was a kid and a teen all the way until now. Something about Thomas made him want to trust him though, and he wasn't quite sure if that was scary or good. So dearly he wanted it to be good, because the taller man was just...amiable. As much as they had argued Thomas held an open demeanor. James actually felt bad for how poorly he acted towards the one person who had helped him sincerely in a long time. Right now he should be trying to ask him more about his past and comfort him a little better from the painful memories of the pond. Instead here he was perplexed with his own thoughts.

“I can't blame you,” Thomas spoke up after minutes of James going through his own inner turmoil.

“What..?”

“The whole trust thing. I get it. I don't trust people that easily either. I know I can trust you though. I don't doubt it at all actually. Want to know why?”

James peered up at the other man with a curious look, obviously telling him to keep going.

“Because if you wanted to do anything to me, kill me for example, or even turn me in somehow, you would have done it the second we found out each others names. I've learned not to underestimate certain people, especially people like you.”

“People like me?”

“People who don't share secrets easily.”

“So you trust me?” James questioned, a small smile irking his lips unknowingly.

“Of course,” Thomas answered sternly. “I got you out of that cell knowing you needed help, but also knowing you could be a threat. I didn't know what got you in there. Yet I still chose to help you.”

“I.. I don't know what to say..”

“You don't have to say anything, James. Just know that even if you don't trust me, I trust you. And I believe you won't purposely do anything to betray that trust.”

James stayed silent and let his eyes settle blankly on the ground again. Every word he thought over was slowly summarizing as he accepted the truth. Thomas trusted him. He trusted Thomas.

“You want to be more than friends?” The shorter asked suddenly.

“If you want to, then absolutely,” Thomas said after resisting the urge to press sarcasm in a serious conversation.

“We can definitely try.”


	16. Chapter 16

James had assumed it would be awkward after Thomas and himself pretty much admitted their feelings for each other about twice. It was not. He mentally rolled his eyes at the thought; it wasn’t as if the emotions weren’t blatantly obvious before. Both of them simply ignored it and repressed it. What, with all the flirty comments that were not so secretly shared he would have thought things would turn out a lot faster than this. Speaking of fast, Madison was unsure if this..relationship? was sprung on too quickly. They had known each other for a few weeks. Those weeks may have been a month or two. James stopped keeping track after being imprisoned and now even after.

Tossing his sight to the sleeping figure beside him, he decided to banish those thoughts for a moment. He trusted Thomas. That both intrigued and scared him. It was hard to get James Madison’s trust; he didn’t trust you and you didn’t trust him. He was a thief. He was manipulative. He was cold.

And yet…

Here was Thomas thawing that heart made, and enveloped in ice.

James couldn’t help but smile at that, eyes tracing over the lanky figure beside him once again. His inner turmoil had always been a problem. He had always been so selfish, so full of self pity and sadness that he never thought the day would come when he was truly happy.

There was no doubt in the world his mind would spiral into negativity again. It always did. Except now he had someone who cared again. He had Thomas, and Thomas had him. Hah. How long could he entertain those thoughts?

They had talked about this all earlier; the doubts, the will to try anyway. James had been in a relationship before, he told Thomas that, and of course James ended up stabbed in the back again. He should have expected it. Actually he did expect it, but how could he hurt someone he once loved?

James was afraid. He was afraid Thomas was going to be the same. Afraid this time he might actually end up dying, or worse, hurting someone he cared for deeply. For once part of him doubted that; he doubted his own doubt.

The sleeping man's face was relaxed and at peace. James envied him for his ability to sleep so well. Thomas trusted him. After the threats. Oh, those empty threats. From the beginning James could hardly tell himself if he could go through with harming him, even if he needed to.

Because contrary to popular belief, he had a heart.

There was so much they still needed to learn about each other. So many unsaid words and stories. They had the time.

A soft snore emitted from Thomas, snapping James out of his thoughts once more. If the former had been awake he probably would have teased him about staring too long. Damn him and his ego. Damn him and that beautiful face. 

You honestly couldn't blame James for never talking about himself or how he felt. He was a closed doors type of person. Those doors had the most complicated lock of them all and somehow, someway, Thomas found the key.

They were barely official yet and here James was with all of these repressed thoughts running through his head like a slow to flow stream. Each thought was a ripple on the surface, a leave floating melancholy down the path. Nothing like the mess he usually was.

It may have been the exhaustion getting to him. Insomnia never did leave him be. It left him tired and without energy. Sad and unable to think properly sometimes. Was it the unwillingness in his body to sleep, or was it something more? The fear of sleeping. Perhaps both. Maybe his calm state was made real because Thomas was here. James would never admit how comforting his presence was. 

So many things in his head were left unsaid and unknown to the world. What a pitiful lie. James was painfully aware Thomas knew first hand what he was like when he had a nightmare and what he was like after one. They haunted his sleep so many nights.

He was just happy to feel calm. James prompted to reach and run his fingers through the thick curls of Jefferson's hair, each appendage getting stuck in the kinky coils along the way and then carding through with a bit of patience. His soul almost left his body when Thomas shifted, turning away from James.

The short, wanted man sighed as his hands fell to the space between them. Thomas convinced James to sleep in the tent with him again. The latter could tell he was trying to repress the whole kissing him in his sleep thing. He was actually thankful he had done that. Waking people up from nightmares was bad, but dear God, the nightmares themselves were horrid. James would shutter to himself already during the day, at night it became trembling in his sleep.

He was also thankful he accepted sleeping here with him. Thomas wasn't all that warm. Surprisingly James was. Guess his icy heart didn't affect the rest of his body. That didn't bother him though. They weren't even touching actually. Despite past mistakes of kissing James without consent, Thomas said he would respect boundaries and take the relationship slow if need be. James didn't dare say he wouldn't mind at all if they were closer.

Mindlessly he shifted closer to Thomas, wrapping an arm around his waist, but not letting their bodies touch. James just wanted to comfort right now. He wanted to make sure his calm stayed.

He still did not sleep, staring instead at the slightly dampened shirt that clung to Thomas’ back. It still hadn't dried fully all these hours later, mostly getting soaked by Jeffersons hair after he slipped the clothing piece on. James was thankful he had short hair. Being soaked in water wasn't the problem, being cold was. James referred the warmth.

After all, nothing good ever comes when it's cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how big that last sentence is :)


End file.
